^fca 



2pj Ik FAMILY of THHBE. 
I JESU1NA, 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
©{jap. ©ofitjng^ Ifo. 



Shelf. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



RIC 



>3 



• : 




The Family of Three 



iesuina 



AND OTHER POEMS 



By EMMA SCARR BOOTH 





BUFFALO 

CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 
i893 



^y 



y<z 



Copyright, 1893, 
By EMMA SCARR BOOTH. 



Printed by C. W. Moulton, Buffalo, N. Y. 



DEDICA TION. 



TO ALL HER TRUE FRIENDS, 

WHOEVER AND WHEREVER THEY MAY BE 

THIS VOLUME 

IS GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED 
BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



The Family of Three. 

Part First 3 

Part Second 16 

Part Third 28 

Part Fourth 32 

Part Fifth 40 

Iesuina. 

Part First 45 

Part Second 

Part Third 63 

Part Fourth 69 

Part Fifth 76 

Part Sixth S2 

Miscellaneous Poems. 

Ode to Life S9 

Angel Teachings 9: 

The Angei's Prophecy 94 

Germ Growth 97 

A Dream Glimpse of Aidenn 99 

The Cry of the Desolate 

The Indian Chief's Remonstrance 

A Dream of Tyranny 109 

Life's Aspirations 113 

Eighty-five : : - 

Good-night 119 

To a Child 120 

The Fishermen 121 



VI CONTENTS. 

Just Thirteen 122 

Five Years Later 124 

Liberated , 125 

The Robin 126 

Flow Swiftly, Stream of Life 127 

The Angel's Call 128 

Come Forth, O Soul 129 

Fruition 130 

Evening Musings 131 

The Cynic 133 

His Course 134 

Rustic Coquetry 135 

To a Bird on Her Nest 136 

Soul Longings 137 

Exaltation 138 

Be Glad 139 

Transfigured 140 

Ambition 141 

Be Patient, O My Soul 142 

Love and Home 143 

Superstition 144 

Say, Little Bird 145 

Within the Shadow . 146 

When 147 

Eve , 148 

The Response 148 

Time's Progress 149 

The Angel's Advent 150 

Evening Visions 151 

Vanished Dreams 152 

The Sunbeam 153 

To a Child 154 

The Thread of Life 155 

Peace, Be Still 156 

Return of Gladness 157 



CONTENTS. Vll 

Be Merciful 158 

The Plea of Adversity 159 

Fame 161 

Greeting to Sorrow 162 

The Rose 163 

The Thunder Storm 164 

"Excelsior" 166 

Morning 167 

Knowledge 168 

The Voyage 169 

The Grand Laboratory 170 

The Defiance 171 

The Violet 172 

Shine Forth, O Sun 173 

The New Armament 174 

Forward 175 

Song of the Pines 176 

Make Beautiful Your Soul-Gardens 177 

O Son of Toil and Honesty 178 

Penitent 179 

The Prophecy 180 

Morning 181 

The Silent Rock 182 

Make Your Reason Free 183 

Poems of the Affections. 

My Nell 187 

Our May 188 

Evening and Morning 189 

The Gleam in the House of Azah 192 

Through the Green Woodlands 194 

The Young Farmer's Proposal 195 

Affection 197 

Accepted 198 

The Haunting Eyes 199 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Mabel 2vo 

The Forget-me-not 203 

The Farewell 205 

The Village Belle 206 

The Parting 207 

- The Wife to Her Husband 208 

The Husband to His Wife 209 

My Angel Boy 210 

Baby Annie 211 

The Midnight Cry , 212 

Poems of Childhood. 

The Baby 217 

To a Child 218 

Grade 219 

Pleasures of Snow 220 

Child Treasures 222 

God's Care for the Little Ones 223 

To a Child 224 

The Penitent 225 

Where are the Roses 227 

Greeting to Christmas 228 

Patriotic Poems. 

Return of the Grand Army 233 

Hymn for Thanksgiving 234 

On the Close of the Year 1865 236 

The Peace Jubilee 238 

The Thirtieth of May 239 

The Orphan's Appeal 241 

Uncle Sam 242 

Fourth of July 244 

The Centennial Year 245 

Columbia 246 

The Patriots' Hymn 247 

The Dying Flag Bearer 249 



CONTENTS. IX 

Poems of the Seasons. 

New Year's Day 253 

The Passage of Winter 254 

Awake, O Earth 255 

Will She Never Come 256 

Break, O Waves 257 

Acrostic 258 

The May 259 

May Time 260 

June 261 

The Advent of Summer 262 

Farewell to June 263 

September 264 

October 265 

November 266 

Autumn 267 

Winter's Wooing 269 

Winter's Approach 270 

The Winter Wind 272 

A Christmas Toast 273 

The Farewell 274 

A Dirge for the Old Year 275 

Lyrical Pieces. 

O Beauteous Moon 279 

Evening Charms 280 

To a Rose 281 

The First Snow 282 

Beautiful Norah 283 

Fly, O Winter 284 

The Bridegroom's Approach 285 

Captured 286 

Fly Pretty Bird 287 

Enoch Arden Under the Yew Tree 288 

Summer Evening 289 



X CONTENTS. 

Song ot Progress 290 

The Three Rivals 292 

Song 293 

Return Once More 294 

Evening Vespers 295 

Beautiful June 296 

Greeting Song 297 

Laughing Song and Chorus 298 

Onward to Victory 299 

Devotional Poems. 

Our Comforter 303 

Excerpt From "The Last of Her Race" 304 

The Imperishable Tree 305 

Instability 306 

Bless the Poor 307 

Lost in the Snow 308 

Pray • 310 

Thou Givest Us Shelter 310 

To My Friends in Aidenn 311 

I Trust, My God, in Thee 312 

Our Children 313 

God Everywhere 314 

Despair Not 315 

Lift Us Higher 316 

Longing for the Eternal 317 

I Find Rest in Thee 319 

Roll On, O World 320 

Early Poems. 

The Bridal 323 

Lenore 324 

Dear May, Adieu 325 

Fading 327 

Live Ye Well 328 

To A Child 329 



CONTENTS. XI 

The Blind Girl To Her Bird 330 

The Beggar's Blessing 331 

The Child To The Bird 334 

The Bird To The Child 335 

The Disclosure 336 

Our Household Darling 337 

Hesitancy 338 

I Flirted But To Tease 339 

In Memoriam 341 

The Kansas Mother 342 

Our Motto 343 

The Human Soul 344 

Slander 345 

Thou Askest Why No More I Sing 346 

The Vision 348 

A Winter Picture 349 

Longing For Spring 350 

Seven Questions 352 

Courage Take 354 

Development 355 

Song Of The Grand Army 356 

Dream On 358 

The Shore Of Youth 359 

Parting 360 

Man's Willing Slave 361 

Simplicity 362 

Heights And Depths 363 

O Silent Land 364 

Only A Sewing Girl 365 

The Bridge 368 

The Departed 369 

The Enfranchised Spirit . . 370 

To Minnehaha 371 

Prayer For Sleep 372 

The Recall 373 



Xll CONTENTS. 

The Coming Of Day 374 

The Summons 375 

Change ^ 376 

St. Valentine 377 

The Exile to her Native Land 378 

Sweet Home 379 

The Returned Wanderer 380 

The Bereaved Mother 381 

The Mount Of Truth 382 

The Warning Cry 385 

Dream On, Fair Nature 386 

To The Would-Be Doorkeepers Of Heaven ...... 387 

Expectancy 388 

Bear Up 389 

From Behind The Veil 390 

The Unseen Power , 391 

The Children's Hymn 392 

Dear Angel Of Purity 393 

I Love You . 395 

Lily of the Valley 395 

Acrostic 396 

Music 396 

Providence 397 

Vittoria 398 



The Family of Three. 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

O MEMORY, be thou awhile my guide. 
Go with me down the steep bank of my life,- 
Yet farther — farther. Let me see, once more, 
The brook — the little, brawling, passionate thing 
That fumed and fretted like a scolding dame, 
And cried that all the pebbles in the world 
Lay in its channel, for no purpose save 
To harass and retard it in its course. 
Oft have I listened to the brook's complaint, 
While seated on a little mossy knoll, 
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree, 
Whose arms, half hidden in their emerald sleeves, 
Reached lovingly toward the heedless stream, 
As though to clasp it in a fond embrace. 
Some times bare-legged boys, with noisy glee, 
Would build a mimic dam across the brook, 
From which, dismayed, the wavelets would recoil 
And seek a passage round it; baffled still, 
They'd dash themselves in rage against the mole. 
And, breaking into many foamy rills, 
Bound over it in triumph. In the tree 
Above my head the birds sang cheerily. 
And one, a chubby finch, had built her nest 
In the sharp angle, where two slender boughs 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Embraced, and joined in one their succulent hearts. 

I watched with much of interest and delight 

The progress of that home; the flutterings, 

Hither and thither, of the feathered pair; 

The whispered consultations, loud debates, 

Before they could decide which branch should hold 

The precious treasures that, they doubted not, 

Spring's last and favorite month would bring to them. 

Then when the place was chosen, the nest begun, 

What bustling to and fro, what great ado, 

What fetching in of straws, and bits of wool, 

And hairs, and sticks, and other odds and ends, 

Which soon the slender feet and delicate beaks 

Wove in a compact, servicable mat, 

That hollowed in the centre like a cup, 

Where, in due time, five azure eggs were laid. 

Then followed days of quietude, and while 

The patient mother warmed to pulsing life 

The tiny globes half bedded in her breast, 

Her happy mate, perched on some nodding bough, 

Warbled to heaven and earth his ecstasy. 

One day I missed my finches when I came 

To my old seat beside the murmuring brook. 

I missed the raptured strains by angels taught, 

Who make the innocent their special care; 

I missed the sparkling eyes, that from the nest 

Were wont to watch my movements, as I thought, 

With less of fear than curiosity. 

But while I stood in wonder and dismay, 

Lest evil had befallen my pretty ones, 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

The twain swept past my head on glancing wings, 

And as they reached their nest, in eager haste, 

Four gaping mouths flew open to receive 

The nourishment they brought. Then swift I ran 

To pour the story in my mother's ear, 

Which having reached, so hasty were my thoughts, 

My halting words could not keep pace with them, 

But stumbled in the effort painfully. 

Not many faces gathered round our hearth 

When evening shades led in the hour of rest. 

Our family circle numbered only three. 

My father was by trade a carpenter; 

A poor, but honest and hard-working man, 

Who in his early life had wed for love 

A girl still poorer; but with her she brought 

A warm and loving heart and willing hands, 

By him esteemed far more than gold or lands. 

The pair had overstepped life's middle age 

When I, a puny, helpless thing, was given 

To swell their cares, and, as they said, their joys. 

I know they loved me with a love whose soul 

Was blent with passionate worship. They so long 

Had waited for the prize, that, when it came, 

'Twas valued as all laggard blessings are. 

I mind me how I used to love to sit 

Among the shavings while my father worked 

And chatter like a magpie, foolishness, 

And deck my giddy head with trailing curls, 

Picked from the fibrous ribbons that his plane 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

At every push sent whirling in my lap. 
But sometimes he would stop to pat my brow, 
And say, " Be merry while you can, my girl." 
Then I, bold with the ignorance of youth, 
Would look up, laughing, in his face, and cry, 

"Why, Father, I'll be merry all my life! 
I know I shall be merry all my life." 

"God grant it, child. God grant it may be so!" 
He then would answer in a tone subdued, 
And, oh, so solemn, that I'd 'gin to weep 
In terror at the strange sound of his voice. 
Then he would laugh, and catch me to his heart, 
And say, " My dear, while poor, old father lives, 
He'll drive the nasty bugaboos away. 
They shall not harm a single golden hair 
Upon my Fanny's head." This happened thrice 
To my clear recollection, and, at last, 
I grew to wonder, in a careless way, 
What were those bugaboos, and once I asked 
My father if they had not other names. 
"Ay, ay," he said, "but never mind them now. 
Thou'lt find out soon enough when thou art grown, 
If God it please to spare thy life so long." 
And so I let it rest, and asked no more. 

Our home was in a valley, far away 
From the ear-vexing din of busy towns, 
Where the vast concourse of humanity, 
Intent on gain of one kind or another, 
Tramples the offered blessings of to-day 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Beneath its restless feet, while on it rushes 
In mad pursuit of shadowy to-morrow, 
Which, laden with the treasures, much desired 
Because not yet enjoyed, flies on before, 
And mocks at man, and still eludes his grasp. 
Our humble cottage, half embowered in vines, 
Stood on the outskirts of a scattered village, 
A place most noted for its quietude, 
And kind and honest-souled inhabitants. 
There one small church, age-worn and ivy-clad, 
Still raised its warning finger toward heaven, 
And drew the meek eyes of the villagers 
Upward, and frequently their hearts as well. 
Lowly but neat the houses mostly were 
That formed the straggling hamlet, and but one 
Aspired to lordly state, and reared its head 
In seeming arrogance above the rest. 
This was the mansion of 'Squire Hazelby, 
As he was called by all his tenantry, 
The owner of the land for miles around. 

Once, I believe I then was eight years old, 
My mother sent me up to the great house 
On some slight errand — what I now forget. 
I was to ask for Mistress Enderby, 
The worthy housekeeper at Hazel Hall, 
And give to her my message; and right glad 
Was I to go, for much I longed to see 
The inside of that Castle Wonderful, 
Whose outside overpowered me with awe 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

When I compared it with my rustic home, 

Or any other dwelling thereabout. 

I tripped along until I reached the Hall, 

And then I paused, not knowing at which doc : 

There were so many, it was best to knock. 

While I delayed in this uncertainty, 

A black-eyed boy, just entered in his teens, 

Came round the corner, chasing, eagerly, 

A lovely butterfly. Her velvet wings 

Conveyed her swiftly, and she would have 'scaped 

But that he threw his cap and struck her down 

All broken, bruised, and dying, at his feet. 

" Oh! Oh! " I cried, " Don't, don't, you cruel boy! 
How could you hurt it so? poor, pretty thing! " 
With that the lad in wonder faced about 
And saw me. "Ah, my bonny lady-bird," 
He said, advancing slowly to my side. 

"Say, did you drop from yonder silvery cloud 
That hovers near as if awaiting you? " 

" No", I replied, " I came here on my feet 
And am to ask for Mistress Enderby." 
And then I ran to where the butterfly 
Lay helpless on the ground, and picked it up, 
Tenderly placing it upon my hand; 
But the next moment the frail, harmless thing 
Folded its wings, and with one quiver died. 
I shed some bitter tears, as children will 
O'er the ill-fate of some poor innocent, 
Then, waiting not to ask for leave, I tore 
A full-blown, snowy lily from its stalk, 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

And placed the butterfly most carefully 

Within its silken cell, and closed it up; 

Then, with my fingers, dug a little grave 

Under a willow tree and buried it. 

When this was done a merry laugh broke forth 

From the red lips of the amused boy, 

Who had been witness of the burial rites, 

And as I turned with cheeks all burning hot, 

For I was sensitive to ridicule, 

He said, " You should have offered up a prayer 

To make the thing complete." And I returned, 

" 'Tis but the wicked ones that need our prayers. 
The pure and innocent require them not." 

" Well, well," he said, " sit down and talk awhile, 
And scold me if you will; I shall not care. 
Your voice is sweeter than a nightingale's, 
And you are fresh as Nature and as fair. 
Come, sit down, pet." " No, I must not stay. 
Please tell me where is Mistress Enderby." 

" Well, if you will not deign to stay with me, 
I'll go with you, and help you look for her. 
My name is Arthur Hazelby, and you 
Must call me Arthur when you speak to me." 
So saying, Arthur gently took my hand, 
And, opening wide the great door of the Hall, 
He led me on through rooms so large and grand 
That I conceived myself in fairy land 
At last, and edged more closely to his side, 
Expecting every moment to behold 
Some strange, unnatural creature. Everywhere 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Was beauty that I had not seen before. 
Books, pictures, marble statues, unknown flowers 
Of odor exquisite, and gorgeous dye, 
Met us at every turn; and on the floors 
Were carpets woven in bright-hued designs, 
And soft and springy 'neath our feet as moss. 
In one of those apartments stood an organ, 
And Arthur, in obedience to my wish, 
Sat down and played a sweetly plaintive tune 
And I, with folded arms, stood by entranced, 
While every sobbing note sank in my heart 
And died there; and, ere long, in sympathy, 
I bowed my head upon my hands and wept. 
The music quickly ceased, and two strong arms 
Were wound around me, and warm kisses fell 
Upon my hair, and brow, and lips, and cheeks. 
And I, because my tears had made me weak, 
Resisted not, but yielded for a while. 

; Arthur, pray, what means this ? " My heart leaped up 
In sudden terror as the freezing tones 
Fell on my ear, and, looking round, I saw 
A stately lady, with large, midnight eyes, 
And raven hair, and face that seemed as if 
It had been chiselled from a bank of snow, 
It was so pale — so pale, and, oh, so cold! 
Mother, I found this wild bird in our park, 
And so I caged her here to play with her 
A little while," said Arthur, half confused, 
But laughing to conceal it. "Who is she?" 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. II 

Inquired his mother in the same cold tones. 

"That I have not found out myself as yet, 
Her son replied. Then turning to poor me, 
Who trembled like an aspen leaf, he asked, 

11 What is your name ? Be not afraid, my dear." 

" My name is Fanny Earl, I answered, low. 
My father is the village carpenter, 
And lives a mile from here down in the dell." 

"What is her business here?" the lady asked, 
Addressing still her son instead of me, 
Who keenly felt, though but a simple child, 
The undisguised contempt this plan implied. 

" She came to see our housekeeper, said Arthur, 
And but for me would have been gone ere this 
Back to her woodland nest." " Then ring the bell," 
The haughty lady ordered, and there came, 
In ready answer to its tinkling call, 
A dame of middle age, robust and fair, 
And kindly looking; one I could have called 
On short acquaintance by the name of mother. 

" This child desires to see you, Enderby. 
Take her away into the kitchen, please, 
And, ere she leaves, get her a hearty lunch. 
These common brats have wolfish appetites." 
So spake the lady with the darkling hair. 
I had a choking feeling in my throat, 
By anger caused; but Mistress Enderby 
Drew me in haste away, and laughed and talked, 
Good soul, to smooth again my ruffled pride — 
For I had pride, though I was but a child — 



12 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

The child, too, of a humble carpenter. 
When I had said what I had come to say, 
The housekeeper inquired my name and age, 
And I was pleased to find that she had known 
My mother when a girl. "Now, Fanny, lass," 
She laughing said, when I had risen to go, 
" I shall not pester you to stay and eat, 
For well I know, by those round, healthy cheeks, 
You've got as good at home. But here, my love, 
Take this in memory of dame Enderby, 
And keep it always, darling, for her sake." 
With that she quickly threw around my neck 
A heavy chain of gold, and, kissing me, 
Showed me the best way home, and said, " Good-bye; 
And may good luck go with you all your life." 

My way home led through a secluded lane, 
Beneath whose shelter violets thickly grew 
And drooped their heads in sweet humility. 
I had a little fancy of my own, 
That they had slyly stolen from the sky 
Part of its azure mantle, which they used 
To veil their modest faces from the gaze 
Of rude and curious mortals; but the clouds, 
Discovering the theft at last, were vex .d, 
And darkly frowned upon the pilferers, 
Until propitiated by the rare 
And delicate fragrance of their contrite sighs. 

Slow sauntering through the lane, I made full soon 
A pretty nosegay of the fair, wild flowers 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 13 

That reached perfection tended by no hand, 

Unless the fairies cultivated them 

On moon-lit nights unseen by mortal eyes. 

Cowslips and buttercups of golden hue, 

And daisies, purely white or tipped with red; 

Pale honeysuckles, holding each a bee, 

Insatiate reveller, in its nectared cup. 

Blue and white bells, that swung so gracefully 

Around their slender stalks; and blossoming May, 

Got with some scratches from the thorny hedge; 

And creamy primroses, and lilies white, 

And purple fox-glove, and the sweet, wild rose, 

Whose soft cheek glows with a perpetual blush. 

Of such as these I filled my apron full 

To take home to my mother, who, I knew, 

Loved flowers and such fair things as well as I. 

When half way through the lane I heard a shout, 
And looking round, saw Arthur following me, 
Accompanied by a large, Newfoundland dog, 
Whose black and shaggy coat shone in the sun 
That westward to his couch was hastening. 
You're caught at last, you little runaway!" 
Cried Arthur, as he drew near to my side. 
; And I owe thanks to good dame Enderby 
For pointing out to me the road you took. 
I wanted sorely to apologize 
For the gross insults mother put on you. 
Fanny, you will not think the less of me 
For her disdainful words ? " " No," I returned, 



14 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

"You're not to blame for other people's faults." 
And so we walked amicably together, 
While Neptune gambolled round us in high glee. 
Soon as my vine-wreathed home appeared in sight, 
My heart rose up in greeting, and I said, 
Pointing it out to Arthur, "Yonder dwells 
Those whom I hold the dearest upon earth. 
To you, no doubt, the place looks rude and mean 
Because you were not born there; but to me 
There's far more comfort in that homely cot 
Than in your mansion, stately though it be." 
" I have no doubt you think so now," he said, 
But sometime you will wish for better things." 
He paused, but, as I turned to go, he asked, 
" May I not come to see you now and then ?" 
" Yes," was my answer. " Come whene'er you please. 
But, why is it you have grown to like me so? 
We've scarce had time to get acquainted yet." 
" Because," and here he looked into my eyes, 
" Because you're beautiful and innocent. 
Now' give me one sweet kiss, and then good-bye." 

My parents were at tea when I went in, 
And, throwing down in haste my flowery load, 
I joined them, and related what had past 
During my visit up at Hazel Hall, 
And showed the chain that Mistress Enderby 
Had given me to keep through all my life. 
When I had done my story, Father said, 
"She's a proud madam — that up at the Hall. 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 15 

She holds all poor folk of no more account 

Than if they were so many dirty pigs, 

And never thinks that 'tis to them she owes 

Her fine establishment, her silken gear, 

And all that makes her lift her head so high." 
" But Arthur is not like her, is he Father ? " 

I ventured to inquire, and he replied, 
"The lad is well enough for aught I know; 

But let a few more years bowl o'er his head, 

And then there'll be a change, or I'm mista'en. 

For he's a scion from a bitter stock, 

Grafted upon another bitterer still; 

And 'tis a maxim, true as it is old, 

That ' what's bred i' the bone crops out i' the flesh.' 

If thou wert older than thou art I'd say 

Beware of him, my lass, beware of him! 

For as he used the harmless butterfly 

So he will use thee if he can, my dear. 

He will defile thy virgin purity, 

And all his devilish clan will cry, ' Well done,' 

Even while they sneer and mock and point at thee. 

Oh, the bare thought of this nigh maddens me! " 

I never saw my father so much moved 
Before. He paced about the narrow room, 
While drops of sweat hung trembling on his brow 
And his blue eyes shot forth a lurid fire. 

" Why, father! " said my mother quietly; 

" Don't let us borrow trouble from the future. 
God knows enough of it hangs on the present 



l6 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

For us to hide beneath a cheerful face. 
Trust me to teach our Fanny what is right 
And what is wrong when she is old enough 
To understand my meaning." Then my father 
Said, "You are right, and I'll go take a walk 
To cool my heated fancy, and no more 
I'll turn myself into a thunder-cloud." 
Then I went quickly to arrange my flowers 
And place their stems in water, and the thought 
Occurred to me, 'He called me beautiful. 
Do I look fair to him as these sweet flowers 
I wonder.' Then I sought the looking-glass, 
And tried to find out where this beauty lurked, 
In the reflection that smiled back on me 
Whene'er I smiled. And this is what I saw, — 
Fair ringlets trailing over shoulders bare, 
And two blue eyes that big with wonder seemed, 
And rosy cheeks and lips, and full round face. 
' I think you do look well,' said Vanity. 
And then she said again, 'You're beautiful'! 
And then I scolded at the flatterer, 
And turned the looking-glass face to the wall. 
So leaving it I soon retired to bed, 
And prayed to be preserved from self-conceit. 

Part Second. 

Ten links, torn piece-meal from the mighty chain, 
Close wound around old Time's revolving wheel, 
Slipped quietly into that chasm dark 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 1 7 

We call the Past — the Past, that swallows up 

Oar cherished treasures, with our hopes, our fears, 

Our joys, our sorrows, and — at last — ourselves! 

To many a family circle those ten years 

Had brought a change — had lessened or increased 

Their number; but ours counted just the same. 

Much altered in appearance were we all, 

But I, by far, the most. My face was now 

Less round than oval, and my yellow hair 

Had slowly deepened to a golden brown. 

My eyes seemed darker, too, than formerly; 

And, since the first day I saw Arthur, twice 

Twelve inches had been added to my height. 

There was no dearth of suitors for my hand, 

For beauty will draw lovers everywhere, 

And few there be that wisely look beneath 

The charming mask to read the intellect, 

Or question if the heart doth correspond 

With the fair countenance. I gave to all 

That pressed their suit on me the harsh word — No. 

Alas, for my heart's peace and happiness! 

A. pair of dark eyes ever came between 

My vision and all other images. 

I had not met the owner of the eyes 

In those ten years more than as many times. 

He had been sent to college very soon 

After our first acquaintance, to prevent 

The intimacy that 'twas feared might grow 

Between the youthful heir of Hazelby 

And the despised, uncultured peasant girl. 



l8 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Whenever, during his long college life, 
He spent some holidays at Hazel Hall, 
He sought my home, and was so frank and free 
That soon he won my father's kindly heart, 
Who said, "The lad bids fair to lift the curse 
Of pride from Hazelby, and if he lives 
May be the founder of a better race." 
These visits at long intervals were made. 
Years intervened between them, and each time 
My heart was stricken with a keener pang 
To note how rich and fertile grew his mind, 
While mine neglected lay, and unimproved. 
I soon imbibed, with famished eagerness, 
All that the mistress of the village school 
Of learning could bestow. She, poor, old soul 
Had toiled and moiled for half a century 
Among the village urchins' sterile brains, 
And planted, hoping for a speedy growth, 
Here seeds of order, there a sprig of faith, 
Patience, attention, and obedience, 
With the inevitable A. B. C, 
Followed by reading and orthography; 
And then some stray roots of arithmetic, 
And a surprising style of penmanship 
Peculiar to herself. I soon learned all 
The mistress knew, and stopped, alas, at that. 
For my dear parents, though they much desired 
To give me schooling equal to my wish, 
Could not afford the means. My mother, now 
Disabled by rheumatic pains, was oft 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Compelled'to keep her chair, from labor free. 
Besides, my father's health had greatly failed. 
And so they needed my devoted care 
And help to earn the needful staff of life. 

By this time Arthur had the longed-for goal 

Of youth — the perfect state of manhood reached; 

Finished in education, and complete 

In natural grace, and surface gloss of art. 

He came to see us then and say — good-bye; 

For he was going on a three-years' tour — 

Was going to visit every famous spot 

Of our great world. Ah, well I recollect 

'Twas evening when he came — a mild, spring eve. 

The stars outshone the sparkles in the brook 

By which I sat, upon a rustic bench, 

Made by my father in a leisure hour. 

'Twas the same brook, uttering the same complaint 

In the same querulous tones of long ago. 

And I was overshadowed by a tre£ — 

The same in which the finch had built her nest, 

Watched closely by two little prying eyes. 

I listened to the brook until its voice 

Grew soft and sweet, and strangely like to his 

Whom I had not beheld for two whole years, 

And who, for so it was reported round, 

Was soon to leave his country for strange lands. 

O, will he come to see me ere he goes ? ' 

My heart asked with a flutter. 'Better not,' 

Returned my reason; 'better, better not. 



*9 



20 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Better for thee if he ne'er comes again. 
For sooner could the lofty sunflower mate 
With the meek violet than he with thee.' 
Then my heart sank beneath a long-drawn sigh. 

"What thought gave birth to that deep sigh, Beloved? 
The whisper fell like music on my ear, 
And, looking up, I saw the frank, dark eyes 
I knew so well, bent kindly on my face. 

" I cannot answer you," I, blushing, said. 
But still he persevered. " Say, Fanny, did 
The thought in any way relate to me ? " 

"It did; but now, I pray you, ask no more, 
Unless you wish to pain me." "Pain you, love! " 
He cried; then paused, and, in a lower tone, 
Said, " Fanny, I have come to say good-bye, 
And to exact a promise from your lips — 
The promise that you will become my wife 
When I return to claim you, which will be 
In three years' time at latest." "Nay," I said, 

" You do but mock me, or else you are mad. 
Think of your lady mother, think of all 
Your proud inheritance, — your father's wrath 
When he discovered that his eldest son 
Had so disgraced him." To the last few words 
My natural pride gave much of bitterness, 
The while it forced hot tears into my eyes. 

" Fanny, I've thought the matter o'er and o'er, 
And I will keep my eager love in check 
And reason with you. Perfectly we know 
That we shall meet with fiercest opposition 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 21 

From all my kindred. Well — so be it then. 
I have the strength of will to cope with them, 
I trust, and power to shelter you besides. 
They've set their minds upon a painted doll 
A mincing puppet from a boarding-school, 
Whom they would have me wed, because, forsooth, 
She has a title, and a heap of wealth. 
She has accomplishments, they argue, too; 
Yes, she displayed them all to me one day, 
And murdered French and music in a way 
Most horrible to hear; and showed to me 
Some tawdry dogs and parrots worked in wool, 
And chattered on of novels, such as pleased 
Her milk-and-water brain. My chafing mind 
At length strayed out and sought this sylvan dell, 
Where, finding you, it lay down at your feet 
In sweet contentment, and I followed it 
So soon as it was possible to do." 

" You thought her ignorant, — then what am I 
Who never went to school — that is, I've been 
To no place worthy of the name of school." 

44 O, say not so," he cried. " You have been schooled 
By nature and the teacher Heaven sent — 
The mind enlightening teacher — Poesy, 
Who ever walks with Nature, hand in hand. 
Besides," he laid his hand upon my breast, 

"Here beats a warm, a noble human heart, 
Worth more than learning, more than titles, more, 
Immeasurably more than sordid gold, 
And I would fear to claim the sacred prize 



22 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Did I not feel that 'tis already given 
Unto my care forever-ever-more. 
And, Fanny, may my Maker deal with me 
As I shall deal with thee, my best beloved." 

What could I do then but believe and yield ? 

I laid my hand in his, and said, "I trust 

Your word, beloved, and I will be your wife, 

God willing, at the end of those three years, 

Or when it pleases you to claim me; but, 

O, Arthur, know that mine is no light love; 

'Twill either bless or curse my future life. 

Should you prove false to me — nay, hear me out, 

I do not think you will, but if you should, 

This love is of such strength 'twill rend my heart 

And spill its warm affections in the dust, 

And make me selfish and unnatural, 

And torture me to madness. O, my dear, 

This is the scene drawn by a lurking doubt. 

There — I have banished it, and my glad heart 

Has shut its doors, enclosing love and thee, 

And they will open to no hand save thine. 

Now let us seek my parents; they must seal 

Our mutual vows with blessings." Arthur touched 

My forehead with his lips, and said, " My love 

For thee is pure and holy as 'tis deep, 

And it shall keep me from the stain of vice 

Until we meet again." Then, hand in hand, 

We passed into the peaceful, little cot, 

And found my parents seated by the fire; 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 23 

And Arthur drew me in between the two. 
There, kneeling down, he said, in solemn tones, 

"Your blessing on our union, father, mother; 
Your blessing on your daughter and your son." 

" What!" cried my father, with a gathering frown; 

11 Our blessing on a wicked mockery ? 
You come to steal our daughter from our arms, 
And force our sanction, too ? What mean you, sir ! " 

" I mean that I do covet her for wife, 
Your daughter here, and she has given assent 
To my petition." "Fudge! She's but a child 
Of twelve, or thereabouts. Our Fanny — why! 
She is not old enough to comprehend 
The meaning of the words — love — husband — wife." 

" Nay, father, you forget," I gently said, 

" For I was eighteen only yesterday." 

"Nonsense!" he cried; but mother interposed, 
And said " The child is right; she is eighteen." 

"Well, then, and if she be," my father grumbled, 

" Is that a fit age for a girl to marry ? 
Thirty is soon enough." Then Arthur said, 
I shall not claim her for three long years yet, 
And then where'er we go you both shall go. 
If you desire it you shall live with us; 
I will not separate you from your child." 

" But," said my father, in a softer tone, 
How will you face your scornful relatives 
When you have made the grown up ' common brat ' 
Their daughter and your wife ? " Here Arthur's eyes 
Fired up with sudden passion, and he cried, 



24 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

" I neither fear their anger nor their scorn 
When I have nothing done to merit it. 
As duty bids, I honor and obey- 
So far as prudent reason says is right. 
And I have yielded up my will to theirs 
In most things cheerfully; but in this case 
I've made my choice, and will abide by it 
Though all earth rise against me and all hell." 
" Here, take my hand, lad," cried my father then, 
" I see thou'st bravery and common sense. 
I like thy spirit, and I'll give my lass 
Right willingly to thy protecting care. 
Nor do I whine because she's penniless, 
For thou'st enough for both, and heaps to spare; 
And she'll not lessen it as some would do. 
Her mother's brought her up to thrifty ways. 
She knows how money's earned, and so she'll know 
The better how to spend it sensibly. 
If I were like some fathers I might prate 
About the honor done our family, 
And thank thee for so kindly condescending 
To come down hither, from thy lordly height, 
And take from my work-hardened hand a gift — 
A spotless pearl, whose worth we may not count. 
But I don't look upon things in that light. 
I hold we all are equals in God's sight, 
And, if right swayed the realm, so would we be 
In sight of one another; or, if some 
Were raised to higher ranks, it should be those 
Whose hearts by virtue are most highly spiced. 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 25 

Then many now neglected and dispised 

Would lift their brightening faces to the light, 

While many others who now boldly flaunt 

False colors in our eyes would find themselves 

Suddenly groveling in the darkest shade. 

Forgive me, boy, that I at first demurred; 

'Twas but to sound your mind. Here take her hand, 

And with it take my blessing. Bless them wife 

As I do." Mother, weeping, blessed us both. 

Then, taking Arthur's hand, she said, " My son, 

As I must now consider you, your eyes 

Are fearless, clear and kindly. I can look 

Through them upon the soul that sits within. 

Such souls as yours, my son, rank high in Heaven. 

'Tis passionate, but nobly passionate, 

And 'tis so gentle and so pliable 

That virtue rules it as the moon the tides; 

And 'tis so self-reliant and so strong 

That it can baffle all the force of wrong. 

I do rejoice that God sees fit to give 

My daughter such a mate — one that can fill 

Her parents' places when they have passed away, 

And love her and protect her as they've done." 

We spent a happy evening all together, 

And then, with bitter tears, we said — good bye. 

Good-bye! that word was meaningless before. 

I never knew what an abyss of pain 

Its fair outside concealed until that night. 

Good-bye! He said it once, and then again, 



26 . THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

And yet again, and each time he returned 

To press upon my lips another kiss — 

Another parting kiss, which multiplied 

Into a countless number, and they clung 

In clusters on my lips, my cheeks, my hair, 

As bees about their queen in swarming time. 

And when the third time he had said good-bye 

And disappeared adown the shadowy walk, 

I peered into the darkness for a time, 

Hoping, expecting half to hear again 

The sound of his dear footsteps, bringing back 

My darling for another parting kiss. 

But all was silence, drear and deep as death. 

And so, at last, I slowly closed the door, 

And with an aching heart, went to my room 

And wept, and watched, and prayed out half f he night. 

Some days went by, and then a letter came — 

The first I had received from him. Ah, me! 

Sure never miser gloated o'er his gold, 

As I did o'er that white-winged, hallowed sheet — 

Hallowed because his hand had rested on 

Its surface, while he penned the words of love 

That filled it to o'erflowing. It was read 

And re-read fifty times, and then 'twas laid 

Tenderly on my heart, to which it sang, 

By day and night, in soft, melodious strains, 

Hope's promises of blissful future years. 

His letters kissed my eager hands each week 

For twenty months, and then — and then they ceased. 

And night closed in upon me, darker far 

Than that on which we parted, for no star 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 27 

Pierced with its shining spear the murkiness. 

The last white messenger he sent to me 

Left him at Mecca, in Arabia, 

In health and buoyant spirits; and it told 

How fast and merrily the time flew by, 

And how his dreams were all of love and me, 

And how he had determined to cut short 

His term of absence by six months at least, 

Because — no, pen, thou shalt not write it down. 

What followed is too sacred to be given 

To cold and careless eyes. Heart, hold it fast; 

'Twas only meant for thee, proud flutterer, 

And thou alone shall feast upon its sweets. 

O, the drear months that followed! O, the years 

That grieving came and went! all mourning o'er 

The beautiful young life, that had gone out 

From earth unwatched by friendly eyes, unsoothed 

By loving words or kisses. When they said 

He may be living yet,' my heart cried out, 

In agony, ' I know there is no hope. 

My darling would not let me suffer so 

If he were living; no, there is no hope; 

And I must learn to bear my misery 

With fortitude and meekness, till the hour 

When the death-angel shall release my soul, 

And bear it to my waiting lover's arms.' 

Sometimes, at dusk of eve, I took my way 
To Hazel Hall, where good Dame Enderby 



28 THE FAMILY OF THREE. . 

Still held her place. Her hair was silvered now, 
And she was not so quick or light of foot, 
Nor quite so upright as in times gone by. 
But age had not benumbed one tender nerve 
That had its birthplace in her kindly heart; 
They thrilled at sympathy's magnetic touch 
As readily as ever. When I poured 
My tale of love and sorrow in her ear, 
She blamed me not, but sought to comfort me 
With legends of lost lovers coming home 
To wed their sweet-hearts after many years. 
I listened to her patiently, but thought, 
In secret, 'such events as these, I fear, 
Occur but seldom in these latter days.' 

Part Third. 

The years went on, and other sorrows came 
Upon our house. Paralysis had stricken 
My mother and benumbed her active mind, 
And rendered her more helpless than a babe. 
And father could not find the work he sought, 
For younger, stronger men caught every chance 
That offered ere it reached his feeble hands. 
And I, o'er borne by sorrow, care and toil, 
Grew paler, weaker, sadder, year by year, 
Until I reached the age of thirty-three. 
About this time a trader in our village, 
A widower of fifty, named John Hard, 
Began to spend long evenings at our house. 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 29 

He was a coarse-voiced, red-faced, burly man, 

Who bullied every one with whom he dealed. 

He seemed to take up more than half the space 

In our small kitchen, where he'd seat himself 

Squarely upon the hearth, and stretch his legs 

On either side of it, as if to bar 

'All others from its warmth. Not for myself 

I cared, so long as I had left 

The taper's light to work by; for I sewed 

For hire, to keep the starved wolf from our door. 

But I disliked to see my parents pushed 

Into the shadows of their own fireside. 

Yet dared not speak my mind, for he had wealth, 

And he was influential in the place, 

And if I angered him, the work might fail 

My poor, thin hands. So, for my parents sake, 

I let him drive them rudely from the fire. 

One night he stayed till they were both in bed, 
And I kept wondering why he did not go, 
As was his wont, at half-past eight o'clock. 
After a time he turned about, and said, 
11 Lass, can you earn your salt at work like that ? " 
"Thank God!" I answered, "I have managed to s 
So far along." " But you would like to live 
An easier way, may be, if so you could ? " 
" Did ever man eat sour or bitter bread 
But that he wished it sweet ? " I asked, and then 
He drew his chair more near, and gazed at me 
Until I felt the life tide surging up 



30 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Over my neck, and cheeks, and brow. " Look here, 
He cried. " I'll take you for my wife, 
If you be willing, which no doubt you be, 
For 'tis a chance not picked up every day. 
I'll take you for my wife, and I'll provide 
The grub for your old parents while they live. 
And you can have your servants, and your chaise 
To ride about in, and your silken gowns, 
And gew-gaws, and all that, and lift your head 
With the first lady in the country round. 
What say you ? " I had listened to this speech 
In anger and astonishment, and now 
I answered, coldly, that I should decline 
The honor he designed me. Then, with face 
Inflamed, he brought his fist down on the stand 
So heavily that my work-basket flew 
Scattering its contents all around the floor. 
" Lass, you're a fool! I've heard how you once set 
Your cap for the young squire that disappeared 
Some time since. You believe he's dead, but I 
Have heard a likelier story. He's took up 
With some she black-a-moor, out in the East, 
That's got a mine of diamonds. You're a fool, 
I say again; but still I pity you, 
For you've a pretty face; and now I'll give 
You one more chance. Will you become my wife 
And live in luxury, or will you starve, 
And let your parents starve ? " My lips were mute. 
My passion was too great to utter forth 
A sound at first, but when at last it broke 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 31 

'Twas terrible. I know not what I said, 

But this I know, that, rising from my seat, 

I lifted up my hand toward Heaven and cursed him. 

I cursed him for the lie his tongue had framed 

Against the sacred idol of my heart. 

And then I think he left the house in haste, 

But am not sure, for I was not myself 

'Till late the following day; my passion had 

So shattered my weak nerves. Large, glistening tears 

Stood in my father's eyes — the only ones 

I ever saw there — when I had told my tale. 

" Father," I moaned, " it rests with you to say 
What I shall do. I loathe, I hate this man, 
But he can give you comforts such as I 
Can never earn for you, toil as I will. 
And if you wish it I will go and kneel, 
And humbly ask his pardon, and implore 
To be accepted as his lawful wife." 

*' Nay, Fanny," cried my father, "you mistake, 
If you imagine there is such a thought 
Lurking within my mind. I'd hang myself 
Before I'd give my only child to him, 
In whose whole carcass but one feeling lives, 
And that is selfishness. God help you, dear! 
Yours is a bitter lot in any case. 
The curse of poverty hangs over you, 
And I, whose dearest wish it ever was 
To shield you from it, only help to make 
Its shadow deeper." " No, you brighten it. 
I should have died, my father, but for you. 
The bugaboos, that once you hinted at, 



32 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Would have long since destroyed me." Then I laid 
My head down on his breast, and we both wept. 

Part Fourth. 

I will pass quickly o'er the next two years 

Of grief and hardship, in the course of which 

Death had looked in at Arthur's home and mine; 

Hadcalled away his father and my mother, 

And later, good old Mistress Enderby. 

I had been forced to sell the chain she gave 

To pay my mother's funeral expenses, 

For I could not endure that her mute corse 

Should be borne to the grave by charity. 

In place of marble tombstone, on the mound 

I raised a living monument of flowers, 

And dreamed her spirit sprinkled them each night 

With water drawn from some celestial fount. 

And surely 'twas so, for it seemed to me 

No other flowers wore such a lovely bloom, 

Or breathed such fragrance on the air as they. 

One autumn afternoon, I sat at work 

Close by a window that looked out upon 

The little plot of ground we called our garden. 

I paused a moment now and then to gaze 

Upon my father, who was busily 

Engaged in gathering in our scanty crop 

Of vegetables. The brisk, autumn breeze 

Played with his locks, now white as whitest wool, 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 33 

For he had reached the age of seventy-five. 

The birds hopped fearlessly around his feet, 

Picking up morsels that his spade unearthed. 

Well might the feathered creatures trust in him 

With perfect confidence, for his kind hand 

Had never hurt one of their pretty race. 

The golden sunbeams danced about his head, 

And one came bridging all the way across 

From him to me, and rested on my cheek, 

Which warmed beneath it to a glowing heat, 

And then I wished, and sent the wish to Heaven, 

O, that this sunbeam were a sign of joy 

And peace and happiness at hand for us!' 

And then I fell into a reverie, 

From which I was awakened by the sound 

Of voices. Looking out again, I saw 

A stranger in the yard — a tall, dark man, 

Dressed in some foreign costume, rich and quaint. 

His beard was of a patriarchal length, 

And hid his breast beneath its inky waves, 

While his bronzed skin told of a fiercer sun 

Than that whose mild rays wandered o'er it now. 

I saw my father clasp his withered hands 

Together as in wonder. Then he led 

The stranger to my presence, and I set 

A chair for him, and stirred the drooping fire, 

And trembled while I did so, not with fear, 

But with a vague anxiety to learn 

What brought to us this unknown visitor. 

I sat me down again beside the window, 



34 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

And glanced at him, but quick withdrew my eyes, 
For he was gazing straight into my face 
With such an eager, curious stare, that I 
Feared to encounter it. At last he spoke: 
; I bear a message from a friend of yours — 
An old-time friend — whom long ere this, no doubt, 
You have forgot." What was there in the tones 
To send such thrills of rapture through my nerves! 
I summoned courage and looked up at him, 
And for the first time fully met his eyes, — 
Those eyes like midnight radiant with stars; 
Those eyes that had from childhood haunted me, 
That once belonged to Arthur Hazelby. 
And then I cried, "Father, lay hold on me, 
For I am going mad. I see the dead, 
Not as the living was, but 'tis his soul 
Clad in another form. This stranger has 
The soul of Arthur Hazelby. I see 
It in his eyes; I hear it in his voice." 
And then I fainted, and lay cold and still 
For many minutes; but that death-like swoon 
Restored my reason, which had nearly left 
Its earthly mansion. When I lived again, 
Arms that were not my father's circled me; 
Lips that were not my father's took from mine 
The kisses laid there seventeen years before, 
And left a thousand others in their place. 
Ah! you who have not felt the cruel pain 
That wrings the heart at parting with a friend, 
Can have no knowledge of the mighty bliss 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 35 

That gives the reunited, for a time, 
A foretaste of the joys of paradise. 

His story was a long one, but I will 

Briefly relate its leading incidents. 

He had been captured by an Arab horde 

While journeying in the desert. Those who were 

With him were put to death before his eyes. 

But he was spared, because the Arab chief 

Fancied he bore resemblance to his son — 

His only son — then dead; and 'twas his will 

That the young Englishman should fill his place. 

So Arthur, being adopted by their chief, 

Was forced to bide with this wild desert tribe, 

Who closely guarded him by night and day, 

But treated him with kindness and respect. 

They stayed not long encamped in one place, 

But shifted oft, urged by their restless minds, 

Even as their sands are driven by the winds. 

Sometimes amid the desert's barren waste 

They came upon a tiny, verdurous isle, 

Where date trees flourished, where grew broad-leaved 

plants 
Of wondrous beauty, nurtured by cool springs 
Of precious water — far more precious there, 
Than pearls, or gems, or ingots of pure gold. 
In such sweet spots they made a brief sojourn, 
And Arthur, that the time might pass away 
Somewhat less drearily, set up a school, 
And taught the chief, and others of the tribe 



36 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Who craved instruction, many useful things. 

And so absorbed his mind became in thus 

Imparting knowledge, that the years went by 

At greater speed than he at first believed 

Was possible in his captivity. 

During this time the youth had frequently 

Sought to escape, but never could evade 

The watchful eyes that kept him still in sight. 

At length the old chief, feeling that his hour 

Of death approached, called Arthur to his side, 

And solemnly inquired if he yet craved 

To be permitted to depart from them. 

Arthur replied as solemnly that he 

Should seize the first fair opportunity 

That offered for escape. And then the chief 

Summoned the trustiest of his swarthy tribe, 

And swore them, by the Prophet's holy name, 

To guard their captive safely through the desert, 

And set him free. Then, when they had retired, 

He said to Arthur, " Son, give me thy hand. 

I have done wrong, I feel, in keeping thee 

So long against thy will; but I did hope 

That thou would'st grow to like our way of life, 

And love me, too, at last, as I do thee. 

The hope was vain; thou canst not; thou hast pined 

In secret all these years. Go then, my son, — 

My soul's beloved — go where e'er thou wilt. 

The world is open to thee. Yet, I pray, 

That thou wilt stay a little longer here, 

To close these dying eyes, and see me laid, 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 37 

With my forefathers, in the peaceful tomb. 

Arthur, with tears he strove not to repress, 

Bent o'er the aged chief and kissed his cheek, 

And promised to remain as he desired. 
" Now, hearken to my words," then said the chief; 
"Lift up the corner of the carpet there, 

And dig a little way into the sand." 

Arthur obeyed, and found a leathern bag 

Tied closely at the mouth. "Ah, yes, 'tis there — 

My treasure! " cried the chief, excitedly, 

Soon as his eyes beheld it; "but no more 

Shall it be mine, who have no use for it. 

My son, to thee I give it; keep it safe. 

'Twill buy thee power and pleasure in the world. 

Now take my blessing while my faltering tongue 

Can utter it, for I am growing faint." 

The old chief lingered yet another week; 

Then, with his hand in Arthur's calmly died. 
" And after he was buried," Arthur said, 
" I spent some days in mourning with his tribe. 

And then, with heart that longed, yet feared to know 

What changes had occured at Hazelby, 

I set out on my homeward journey, love. 

And here I am with thee at last — at last! " 

I took his hand, and gently drew him where 
The mirror swung above the mantle shelf. 
There standing, side by side, we looked and saw 
Two faces, middle-aged, and one was dark 
But handsome yet, and noble in expression. 



38 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

The other looked much like a withered lily. 

'Twas ghastly pale, and thin, and seamed with lines — 

Lines that at times would deepen into wrinkles. 

No bloom upon the cheeks, no sparkle in 

The faded eyes, no lustre in the hair, 

Which once hung gracefully in clustering curls, 

But now was twisted up, and half concealed 

Beneath a little cap. O, ne'er before 

Was it revealed to me that I was changed 

So hopelessly as this! I dropped his hand, 

And, pointing to the spectre in the glass, 

Said, "Arthur, that is not the face you wooed, 

And that is not the face your bride must wear 

When, at your side, she meets the curious crowd 

That throng around to wish you happiness. 

You often praised my beauty; if 'twas that 

You loved, you cannot love me now; 

For there is scarce a shadow of it left. 

And you shall never marry me for pity. 

I'd sooner die — nay, worse — I'd sooner see 

You wedded to another — than become 

A life-long burden on your heart and hands. 

You have been faithful to your early love, 

But she is dead; and I who fill her place 

Release you from your vows and in her name 

Bless you." " What nonsense are you talking, dear? 

He said, half angrily. Then, with a smile — 

The smile of long ago — he drew me close, 

And whispered, "During my long journey here, 

I was tormented by a gloomy dread, 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 39 

Whose shadow moved before me, and enlarged 
As I drew nearer to my childhood's home. 
It was the fear that I should find thee dead, 
Or else the wife of one more blest than I. 
And when I found thee living, and unwed, 
And heard how thou hadst suffered poverty 
And agony of mind through all these years, 
And spurned temptation, though it offered thee 
Protection, friends, wealth, ease and happiness; 
Darling, when this I knew, and knew that thou 
Hadst sacrificed and suffered thus for me, 
My love for thee became a holier thing; 
Though God knows it was never base before; 
And hadst thou been transformed by ugliness 
To something even more homely than herself, 
I should esteem it a blest privilege 
To fold thy dear form to my grateful heart, 
And shield thee from misfortune evermore. 
I know thy charms are not so radiant 
As once they were; but they were dimmed by me, 
And it shall be my care to give them back 
Their olden lustre. Thou wilt find that soon 
They'll brighten 'neath my kisses; even now 
I see the rubies glowing on thy lips; 
The pale, pink roses bursting into life 
Among the delicate lilies on thy cheek. 
Joy! joy! my love! the happy present opes. 
For us the portal of a happier future. 
Give me thy hand, and let us enter in." 



40 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 



Part Fifth. 



There was great consternation at the Hall 

When the lost heir appeared; for, in his place, 

His brother, next of age, was lording it 

With pomp and arrogance. This brother was 

His haughty mother's favorite. He had, 

She said, the spirit of his ancestors. 

And it was doubtless so; for, like them, he 

Was feared and hated by the peasantry. 

Greetings constrained and cold were given to Arthur 

By those who should have welcomed him with joy 

And warmest love; and when he, in calm tones, 

Informed them that he was about to wed, 

And who the bride, his mother, white with rage, 

Invoked dire maledictions on his head, 

Which he received composedly, as if 

They had been blessings; and, soon after that, 

His kindred left the Hall in wrath and haste, 

Declaring they would never rec.ognize 

The beggar his low mind had mated with. 

After our marriage we remained a year 

At Hazel Hall, and then my husband wrote 

To his proud relatives, informing them 

That, caring little for his heritage, 

He had resolved to leave it for a home 

In the New World, and, as they'd proved so kind, 

And so considerate to himself and wife, 



THE FAMILY OF THREE. 41 

(The irony was strong and unconcealed) 
He wished to reinstate them at the Hall, 
And vest them with authority complete 
O'er all the landed property, if they 
Would give one-half the income to the poor 
Of Hazelby and the surrounding parts. 
Provided, farther, they would give it for 
The sake and in the name of his beloved 
And honored wife, who, having been herself 
Once indigent, could feel for all in need. 
No answer came to this; and Arthur then, 
Directing that the income be all used 
To aid the suffering and the destitute, 
Left the inheritance in trusty hands; 
And with myself, my father and some friends, 
Set sail for the far land of Liberty. 
Here, for our home, we chose a lovely spot 
Upon the margin of a smiling lake. 
And here we yet contentedly reside, 
And still our happy family numbers three. 
For though my father left us years ago 
To join my mother on the heavenly plains, 
God sent a little, smiling cherub down 
To fill his place and make again complete 
Our family circle. In the pleasant days 
We ramble with our child upon the beach, 
And laugh to see him fearlesly bend down 
And grasp the wavelets in his tiny hands, 
Hoping to stay them; but they break away, 
Leaving some drops upon his rosy palms, 



42 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 

Which merrily he tosses to the sun, 
And the sun flings him back a shower of pearls 
That lodge among his clustering golden curls, 
Or glisten in the rich bloom of his cheek. 

O, we are blest in our idyllic home. — 
Blest in all earthly comforts — more than blest 
In love's congenial companionship. 
My heart is like a fountain, pouring forth 
Perpetual streams of gratitude to Heaven 
For its most precious gift to me, which still 
Comprises, in one individuality, 
Protector, teacher, husband, lover, friend. 
His royal soul delights to shed on mine 
Its fertilizing beams — reflections from 
The sun of knowledge — and, thus energized, 
I grow toward him, and feel the dignity 
And glory of his presence more and more. 
Now, hand in hand, beside Faith's altar fires, 
We pause, and call to all life's stricken ones, 
" Look up, ye down-bowed souls, look up again. 
Hope! hope! the future brings you recompense. 
As the Creator liveth, He will move 
Away all obstacles that now prevent 
Your onward flight to love, and light, and joy; 
And you shall learn, like us, to bless the pain 
That gave the ensuing pleasure tenfold worth; 
That made you thrones in Heaven, who once wore 
chains on earth. 



Iesuina. 



IESUINA. 

IT was our Autumn season. Through the skies 
The amorous sunbeams hastened to the earth, 
Whose out-stretched, vapory arms, with fond embrace, 
Drew them to her warm bosom, where they clung, 
And paled, and died in ecstasies of love. 
The winds lay cradled in the lap of Peace 
And slept obedient to her mild command, 
While Nature, lulled by her magnetic touch, 
Sweetly resigned herself to quiet rest, 
And saw in dreams the sacred mysteries 
Pertaining to herself revealed, explained. 
The trees, in merry mood, had made a raid 
On Beauty's wardrobe, and had used the spoils 
To robe and deck their forms so gorgeously, 
That Thought, arrested in her wayward flight, 
Gazed as if spell bound. 

Now and then a leaf, 
Bright as the tint that warms the tender cheek 
Of bashful maidenhood, became detached 
From its supporting bough, and floated down 
With graceful motion to the faded turf. 
Then followed others gleaming with the hue 
Of gold, and others wearing sober grey, 



46 IESUINA. 

Or brown, or neutral tints; and others yet, 

Stained, streaked, and dappled with the rainbow dyes. 

All helped to form a carpet unsurpassed 

In splendor, wondrous in variety, 

On which the pensive Autumn might repose. 

Beneath an ancient oak two children sat 

And chatted pleasantly of childish things. 

One was a boy of twelve, or thereabouts. 

Handsome, impulsive, and imperious, 

He brooked not much restraint or government 

Even from his elders. In his clear brown eyes 

The fires of an unbroken spirit shone. 

The other child, a girl, was sister to 

The boy, but unlike him in most respects. 

Though but two years his junior, she was thought 

By many to be scarcely six years old. 

So small was she in stature that her friends 

All called her by the sweet, pet name of Fairy; 

And she retained it long in after life, 

Declaring that it pleased her better far 

Than her own birth name — Agnes Eveleen. 

Through windows violet-stained, her shy young soul 

Looked out upon Creation and pronounced 

It beautiful and good. So innocent 

And happy was her mind, that it could not 

Imagine a celestial paradise 

More bright and blissful than her own dear home. 

Heaven was within her being, and it shed 

A softening light, a halo round all forms 



IESUINA. 47 

Material, which her senses could perceive. 
Submissive in her nature, (too much so 
For her own good) she rarely placed .her will 
In opposition to another's wishes; 
Entreaty won her, and command o'erawed. 

Ere long the children to their feet arose, 

And, side by side, proceeded toward home; 

The little Fairy carrying in her hand 

A basket filled with leaves — the choicest she 

Could find 'mong all her eyes had wandered o'er. 

These were to form a wreath with which to grace 

The walls of her own chamber, where she spent, 

In play and study, part of every day. 

Soon issuing from the wood, the children walked 

In meadows browned by early autumn frost, 

Where fed a herd of cattle, fat and sleek 

As any that Ohio's farms could show. 

These raised their heads and gazed with curious eyes 

When Philip and the little Fairy passed, 

In haste to reach their dwelling; but as they 

Saw nothing to excite alarm or ire 

They quietly resumed their grazing. 

Far 

The fields extended northward, and their brows 
Were laved in the cool waters of Lake Erie. 
Westward and southward the horizon was 
Shut out from view by the umbrageous forest, 
While to the eastward billowy hills arose, 



48 IESUIMA. 

Crested with pine trees and the arbor-vitae. 
Near to the hills a thriving village nestled, 
As if it sought protection in their strength 
From rude invasion of the storms of Nature. 
The sunbeams, through a vapory atmosphere 
Descending, wandered sleepily about, 
Lighting the windows, polishing the spires 
That pointed where the sanctuaries stood. 
Few were the stores for barter in this place — 
This village of a hundred families; 
Indeed, but three obtained a fair support, 
On profits made in buying and in selling. 
Of these, the largest and most favored one 
Was owned by Gilbert Lexington — a stout, 
Good-looking man of forty, father to 
The boy and girl already introduced. 
The dwelling, which, approaching from the east, 
You first would reach, is the beloved abode 
Of our young rovers, Philip and his sister, 
Who now are standing by the garden gate. 

"We're home at last," he says, "and glad am I 
For I am tired; and you I think must be 
Still more so, Fairy, being small and weak." 

"Oh no. I feel as fresh as when we started 
This morning for our ramble in the forest. 
You know you carried me across the brooks 
And rugged spots of ground, and helped me o'er 
The great high fences; that's why you are tired. 
But see the sun is drawing o'er his form 
A coverlet of mist, and we no more 



IESUINA. 49 

May view him till to-morrow; so we'll now 
Wish him a kind good-night and pleasant dreams. 
There, Philip! Mother's waiting at the door 
For us to come to supper, I expect. 

mother! we have had a glorious time. 
We've been, I think, in the enchanted land 
You read of in the dear Arabian tales. 

The trees kept dropping down their precious stones 
Of various hues, which, ere they reached the ground, 
Changed into leaves. Some of the loveliest 

1 gathered for an autumn wreath. You know 
I mean to press them first, then varnish them; 
For so I hear they may be best preserved." 

" Did you find naught in your enchanted land 
Save leaves, my child ? " " Yes; looking up I saw. 
Through the entwining branches of the trees, 
The trailing garments of the fairy queen. 
Her robe was dyed the sweetest, softest blue; 
And over it a vail ot silken lace 
Floated in graceful ripples. I directed 
Philip's attention to it; but he laughed 
At me, and said it was the sky I saw. 
Light-footed elves, in guise of squirrels grey, 
And black, and red, sat on the fallen trees 
Munching the chestnuts, which the breeze at times 
Brought down in showers around us. Mischievous 
They looked, with plume-like tails o'ershadowing 
Their backs, and busy paws that held and turned 
The nut so that the slender teeth might work 
To best advantage. Gaudy plumed jays 



50 IESUINA. 

And woodpeckers chattered overhead, and seemed 
To scold us for intruding; — but, dear mother, 
Why is your face so full of mystery ? 
Something unusual has occurred, I know." 

" You're right, my love; and now since you have done 
Your story I will enter upon mine. 
This afternoon I called on Widow Ives 
To ask if she had heard from Robert yet — 
Her scapegrace son, who left her to enlist 
As seaman in the navy. Well, my dears, 
When I returned I found within our porch 
A basket covered over with a veil. 
Lifting the veil, a sleeping cherub face 
Met my astonished vision. Rapt I gazed 
Until a smile o'erspread the beauteous features — 
A smile, methinks, like that which glorified 
The Christ-child's countenance when, as he lay 
Serenely in his happy mother's arms, 
The eastern worshippers around him knelt, 
And hailed him as the Savior of his race." 

"O mother, where's the baby? tell us quick. 
We want to see it," cried the children then, 
Excitedly; and rushing in the house 
They found their own old cradle, which had stood 
For years unoccupied up in the garret, 
Placed near the fire-place in the sitting-room. 
Beneath a snowy coverlet reposed 
The little one, in still unconsciousness 
Of all external objects. Never thought, 
Fresh from the stainless soul of Purity, 



1ESUINA. 

Was fairer, sweeter, chaster, lovelier 
Than seemed this tiny snow-drop, opening 
So lonely, so deserted of its kin, 
Amid the frosts of autumn. 

Presently, 
Awakened by the voices of the children, 
Whose ecstasy could scarcely be repressed, 
The babe unclosed its eyelids, and revealed 
Two wondering dove-like orbs of softest grey, 
Wherein deep shadows floated, now and then, 
Like cloud reflections in a quiet lake. 
The babe was of the female sex, and seemed 
Not more than two months old. No kind of clew, 
No name, no relic had been left with her, 
Whereby she sometime might be recognized 
By those who had so strangely cast her out 
From their protection. 

Long the infant looked 
At the three unknown faces, radiant 
With love and admiration, till at length 
The rosy under lip began to quiver 
And pout beyond the other, more and more, 
Swelled by the currents of an o'ercharged heart; 
And then the baby wept. " O mother, see! " 
Cried Fairy, "see the mark upon its forehead! " 
A wonder had appeared, — a crimson cross 
Flamed on its brow. " The finger of the Lord 
Has rested here and sealed His chosen one," 



5i 



52 IESU1NA. 

The mother said in low and reverent tones. 

" Blessed the child shall be in time to come, 
But many earthly trials must she bear; 
For so a voice prophetic in my soul 
Declares, nor can I doubt the prophecy." 
Soon the babe, cradled in the loving arms 
Of Mrs. Lexington, forgot her fears, 
And smiled again; then fled away the cross, 
Nor left a trace upon the placid brow 
To draw attention. So throughout her life, 
It was observed, whene'er her heart was stirred 
By deep emotions, on her forehead blazed 
The blood-red cross, that only passed away 
When peace ruled in the empire of her mind. 

"You'll keep the baby, mother, will you not ? 
She shall be one of us, and we will guard 
Her precious life from danger and from pain. 
No one shall injure her when I am near." 
Thus Philip; and his face glowed with the warmth 
Of a defiant and heroic spirit. 

"Yes, mother; keep the darling baby, please; 
And I'll do all I can to help you. I 
Will tend her when you're busy, and devote 
The time I have for play to her alone. 
You'll keep her, won't you, for her sake and mine 
And Philip's, dearest mother? — say you will." 
So pleaded Fairy, and the mother's heart 
Pleaded as ardently, and she replied, 

" Yes, children, we will keep her; she shall be 
Your care as well as mine. In teaching her 



IESUINA. 53 

Life's earliest lessons you will learn yourselves 
Some things that may be useful by and by." 

" Mother, what shall we call her ? " Philip asked, 
Then, turning to his sister, " Fairy, you 
Are so poetical that you can find 
Without much trouble an appropriate name. 
So please unlock the secret cabinet 
That holds the choicest treasures of your mind — 
Your golden thoughts — and choose therefrom a title 
For our new baby." Fairy bowed her head 
And mused awhile; then, looking up, she said, 
In tremulous tones, " We'll call her Iesuina." 

" My darling child! how is it you have found 
So singular a name ?" the mother asked. 

" I know not whence it came, but as I thought 
There flashed across my brow a beam of light, 
On which was written in great, purple letters, 
The name of Iesuina. I have prayed 
The angels many times that they would send 
One of their blessed number to my home, 
To be my dear companion, sister, friend, 
All through my life, and, mother, I believe 
They heard my prayer, and now have answered it 
By sending us this cherub." "I for one 
Declare the name is suitable," said Philip. 

" The infant bears the cross, and should she not 
Receive His name, who bore it long ago, 
As sacred history tells us." "I agree 
With you, my son," the mother gently said; 

" So that important question now is settled. 



54 IESU1NA. 

What think you, baby Iesuina, say, 
To your new name ? " The infant tossed aloft 
Its arms, and crowed, and smiled; and all was joy 
Within the household when the sun went down. 

Part Second. 

Now let us vault the space of sixteen years 

Ere we again look in upon our friends. 

'Tis eventide in summer. One by one, 

The faithful beacon lights of heaven appear, 

Like dewdrops trembling in the atmosphere. 

The village street lamps, pricked by vanity, 

Essayed to rival the celestial lights, 

And cried to every passer by, "Behold! 

Dim is their radiance compared with ours. 

You are indebted more to us than them 

For guidance and protection in the shade 

Cast o'er your path by Night's gigantic form." 

Thus some among the lesser luminaries 

Of human kind, whose lustre only fills 

A narrow space around them, in their pride 

Imagine they are of more consequence 

Than others, who, in luminous arms of thought, 

Enclose the Universe. 



Our village, now 



Our village, now 
Enlarged and prosperous, and (we'll whisper it) 
Aspiring to the greater dignity 
And title of a city, sends her ships, 



IESUINA. 55 

Stored with the products of her industry, 

To distant ports, receiving in exchange 

The merchandise they furnish. Lo! to-night 

There is a bustle all about the harbor. 

For she, the darling of the village folk, 

Their pride, their latest triumph, has returned 

Safe from her first adventure on the lakes. 

Quick through the town the welcome tidings flew: — 

"Our ship has come; the Water Sprite is here! " 
And many hurried downward to the beach 
To gaze upon this offspring of their skill 
And enterprise. Upon the milk-white deck 
The master of the ship — a stalwart man, 
Of bronzed complexion and stern features, stood, 
Directing with rough voice and rougher words 
The motions of those under his command. 
But though his tongue to duty is enchained 
His eyes play truant. O'er the frothy waves 
That lap the sandy shore his glances leap, 
And wistfully seek among the noisy crowd 
For something that they find not. " Where is she ? " 
Is the impatient query of his mind. 

" She promised to come hither 'mong the first 
To welcome my return. O Iesuina! 
I've trusted in thy word as I have never 
Trusted in aught before in earth or heaven. 
Thou surely wilt not make me doubt thee now." 
As if in answer to his murmuring thoughts, 
A figure, robed in white, detached itself 
Quietly from a group of laughing girls, 



56 IESUINA. 

And stood like some fair Naiad, all alone 
Beside the lake. Vainly the wavelets strove 
To clasp her feet in passionate embrace. 
One moment full of hope and strength they rose, 
The next fell backward baffled in their aim. 
At length, uniting all their energies 
For one last effort, they so far advanced 
As to bedew her slippers with their tears, 
Which boldness she resented playfully, 
And cast upon their fast retreating forms 
A shower of scented petals from the rose — 
The snow-white rose that rested on her breast. 
But now, from the fast-anchored ship, a skiff, 
Propelled by two impatient, vigorous arms, 
Comes bounding like a bubble o'er the surf. 
The rower springs upon the yielding sand, 
Makes fast his boat, and whispering two words, 

11 My Iesuina! " takes the ungloved hand 
Of her who stands so pale and statue-like 
Before him. Then, in louder tone, he asks, 

" How have things gone with you since last we met 
Three tedious months ago ? " " Well, Robert Ives. 
Well has it been with all of us save one. 
Your mother's eyes grow brighter every day 
With the strange radiance of the higher life. 
I'm glad you're going to stay awhile at home 
For her poor sake. Robert, she yearns for you 
Constantly. Let your love unfold itself 
In kindest words and actions, and you'll see 
They'll change anon to singing birds from whose 



IESUINA. 57 

Soft throats will issue jets of liquid music, 
That, drop by drop, will filter through her mind, 
And yield refreshmemt to her thirsty soul 
'Till death shall end her earthly pilgrimage." 
"And is it only for my mother's sake 
That you are pleased to see me, Iesuina ? 
If I believed, — but come, we'll step aside, 
Out of this throng and bustle for awhile, 
For I have that to say to you to-night 
Which none but you must hear. Mayhap you'll laugh 
To hear a rough, sea-hardened dog like me, 
Whose voice is cracked with howling through the storms 
Of eighteen winters on the briny main, 
Whine sentimentalisms at your feet. 
In point of years I'm old enough, I know, 
To be your father; but in intellect 
And goodness you're the eldest. You've been raised 
In different soil, and breathed a different air 
To that which nurtured me. My early training 
Was had beneath the roof-tree of a demon, 
Whom I was taught in childhood to call — Father; 
But since have honored with another name, 
Oft used by sailors when their swelling wrath 
Breaks o'er the bulwarks of their self-control; 
A name I will not mention, for 'twould shock 
Your unaccustomed ears. With daily blows 
And curses did the monster mold my being 
Almost into the pattern of his own. 
My heart grew callous 'neath his tutelage, 
All save one little spot kq»t moist and green 



58 IESUINA. 

By mother's tears. Oft she bemoaned herself 
That she had been so weak as to admit 
Into her first beloved husband's place 
One so unworthy as my step-father. 
Well, one fair day I cast adrift from home, 
And knocked about the country for awhile 
Without a pilot, till at last I ran 
Athwart an old sea captain, who was there 
Enjoying, with some inland friends, his six 
Months leave of absence. When he'd heard my tale 
He asked my age. I told him fifteen years. 
" Come go with me; I'll make a man of you; 
You're just the chap I want," he said and shook 
My hand so heartily, and looked so frank 
And honest souled that I said ay at once; 
For I had hankered for a sailor's life 
From being a child. I clearly recollect 
How I could beat most others of my age 
At rowing, swimming, diving. Often times 
I stretched myself at length to doze and dream 
Upon the bosom of a quiet stream 
That beautified the valley where we lived. 
No bed of down, no silken coverlet 
Could seem so soft, so pliable, so warm 
As did those wavelets rippling over me 
And singing in my ears sweet lullabies. 
But I forget myself; where was I? — oh! 
I have it now. The captain offered me 
Good wages and a berth as cabin boy, 
And so I went with him. Five years were spent 



IESUINA. 59 

Before our vessel touched again the port 

She started from. I sought my mother's home, 

But found it owned and occupied by strangers. 

They told me, welcome news, that she was free; 

That he was dead, the object of my hate, 

Having been murdered in a drunken brawl. 

They gave me her address, which led me hither, 

And here I met with you, a lovely child, 

Who, when we'd grown familiar, oft would climb 

Upon my knee and ask so eagerly 

About the great blue ocean and its wonders, 

Its ships, its fishes, and its water-spouts, 

Its islands and its icebergs. Then when I 

Had answered all the questions patiently, 

Nothing would do but I must tell some tales 

About the foreign lands and foreign folk, 

Which I had seen. O dearest Iesuina! 

I pray you be that little girl again, 

And love me freely as you loved me then." 

" I do, my friend," she earnestly rejoined; 

" My love has never failed and never will. 
I called you brother in those childish days, 
And I regard you as my brother still. 
Why should I not ? " " But I am not content. 
I covet from your lips a dearer name 
Than that of brother. Sweetheart, be my wife, 
And let me find a quiet anchorage 
Within the sunny haven of your bosom." 

" You pain me, Robert, since you ask for that 
I cannot grant. Why not be satisfied ? 



6o IESU1NA. 

Do I not place full confidence in you, 

And welcome you among my dearest friends ? " 

"Ay, ay," impatiently he answered her; 

" But think you I can brook to share your love 
With others ? Never. Either you must be 
Mine, mine alone, or we must part forever. 
My life thus far has not been calm and pure 
Like yours; it has known turbulence and crime. 
Yes, crime. You shiver at the awful word. 
But I will not resort to subterfuge 
Even to win you. I'll lay bare my heart 
Before your eyes, and, though the leopard's skin 
Has fewer spots, believe me, Iesuina, 
Your love has power to efface them all." 
She laid her fingers gently on his lips, 
And said, " I know your virtues and your failings; 
You need confess no further. I am told 
You are at times by gusts of passion driven 
Upon the dangerous sand-banks of excess, 
From which you 'scape not scathless. O, my friend! 
Your heart is noble, generous and brave. 
It is too good a vessel to let drift 
At random on the treacherous sea of life. 
Take Reason in the future for your pilot; 
He's wise and trusty." "No, I will take you, 
My Iesuina. You shall hold the helm, 
And guide me as you list. I care not whither 
You steer, East, West, or North, or South, 
So long as the same craft receives us both." 
Thus saying, he drew the maiden to his breast, 



IESUINA. 6l 

And pressed his burning lips upon her cheek. 
But she, with quiet dignity, withdrew 
Her delicate form from his encircling arms, 
And sadly spoke : " You are so violent 
That you do force me to disclose a truth 
Which much I fear will cause you bitter grief. 
My heart and hand are pledged — are pledged to one 
Whom I have loved and honored all my life. 
Be calm, my friend — my brother. You are strong, 
And should bear disappointment manfully. 
Next unto those I live with I do love you; 
And every morn and eve I pray to God 
That He will send you rest and happiness." 
''Words, when my heart and brain are bruised and 
crushed! 

Words, when a matchless torture is applied! 

Words, when a passion is consuming me! 

Oh! curses on the cold, unpitying things; 

They madden me. Nay, do not turn away. 

Stay — hear me out. I've listened to my doom, 

And know that no appeal of mine can change it. 

What have I left to hope for ? what shall cheer 

The gloomy desolation of my life 

Since all its sunshine has forever fled ? 

But there's a way to end it. I have seen 

The reckless outcast plunge the glittering steel 

With cool indifference in his quivering flesh, 

And I can do the same." " Shame, Robert, shame! 

Are you a coward ? Would you flee from life 

Because it tests your unused energies 



62 IESUINA. 

Of soul — your moral strength of mind ? 

Think not I'm pitiless because my tongue 

Lashes you with rebuke. My heart is sore 

For you, my friend, and were it not that I 

Foresee your future, somewhat, I should fail 

In courage to reprove you; but I know 

Angels attend you — spirits who have passed 

From sin to holiness, not along a path 

Bestrewn with rose leaves, but one lined with thorns 

Which entered in their feet at every step. 

They'll go with you, for they best understand 

How to control you when you need control, 

How to direct you when you go astray, 

How to assist when you assistance crave. 

And I shall visit you in spirit, too. 

My image will appear to warn you oft 

From sin and danger. You will heed its words 

Of counsel though you may not think so now. 

Whate'er your fate may be I'll think of you 

With sisterly affection and concern. 

I now must leave you. See, the throng disperses. 

Do you remain here long ? " " This night I'll spend 

On board my vessel, but to-morrow's dawn 

Will witness my departure for the sea. 

Only its storms and dangers can o'erpower 

This tempest grief, that rages in my breast 

And racks me so I scarce know what I say. 

The Water Sprite may find another master; 

She'll know no more of Robert Ives, for there's 

Not room sufficient in the land-girt lakes 



IESUINA. 6$ 

For me to fight the battle with myself. 
If you so please, you may remember me 
To mother. I'll not worry her by going 
To see her since I could not stay with her 
More than an hour. Tell her I humbly trust 
She'll pardon her unhappy, graceless son. 
If she cannot — why, I must bear that too, 
Go; leave me now. No, take your hand away. 
I'll never more shake hands with you until 
I feel more worthy of your pure regard. 
My gaurdian angel, — bless you — pity me! " 

And so they parted. She, with head bent down, 

And weeping eyes, went slowly to her home, 

While he returned aboard the Water Sprite 

To settle up accounts and take his leave 

Of all the sailors. Much they thought and grieved 

And marvelled o'er this unexpected change 

In his intentions; but none guessed the cause. 



Part Third. 

Another year — another wave of time 
Has rolled away beyond our mortal ken, 
Lost in the mighty ocean of the past. 
We say with pensive sigh, ' Well, let it go, 
Since others come to claim our interest, 
And only one thing at a time can have 
Our full attention.' 



64 IESUINA, 

Merrily beat young hearts, 
And merrily glanced young mischief-loving eyes, 
When clear the summer sun arose upon 
The bridal morn of Fairy Lexington. 
Her father's house was thronged with bidden guests 
To witness the espousal. Laughingly 
They held debate among them as to which, 
The bride or bridesmaid, was the loveliest; 
The one a delicate snowdrop, unassuming, 
The other a stately lily, pure and pale. 
Few would have guessed the bride to be the elder, 
Since she, though turned of twenty-seven, appeared 
Younger than Iesuina, not eighteen. 
The bridegroom was a gloomy, dark-skinned man 
Of middle age, whose furtive glances crept 
Like thieves into his neighbor's busy brains, 
And grappled with their consciousness, and stole 
Their secrets from them. Many deemed it strange 
That Fairy, child-like, frank and sunny-souled, 
Should yield up at this sullen one's demand 
The keys that locked and unlocked all the doors 
Within the sacred temple of her being. 
But so it was; and merrily smiled the sun, 
And merrily smiled the guests upon the bridal. 
O false, false sun! O thoughtless wedding guests! 

The knot was tied; the pair resumed their seats, 
When lo! to the astonishment of all, 
Saving the members of the family, 
Philip and Iesuina took their places 



IESUINA. 65 

Before the minister, who then proceeded 
To bind them, also, with the marriage vow. 
The firm response ' I will ' from Philip's lips, 
Was followed by a shriek so loud and shrill 
That every heart contracted with affright. 
A woman, with a maniac's frantic mien, 
Rushed forward, and with passionate energy 
Tore the young couple's clasping hands apart. 
Then, sinking on her knees, she cried, aloud, 

"I do forbid this marriage. Iesuina, 
You are my daughter and his daughter, too." 
She pointed as she spoke to Philip's father, 
Whose half-averted face was flushed with shame. 

" The curse has found you, Gilbert Lexington, 
And will have its revenge upon you now. 
Know, all you gathered here, this smooth-faced man 
Deceived me with his lying promises, 
Long years gone by, when I was ignorant 
That he was then a husband. To my home 
He came and won me, and betrayed my trust. 
Soon afterward he left me, and I pined 
In secret till my precious babe was born. 
Although before her birth I prayed for death, 
Soon as I looked into her beauteous eyes 
A greedy wish for life possessed my soul, 
And then I said, ' For thy dear sake I'll live, 
My darling one — my pretty, innocent lamb. 
But I was poor, and could not bring her up 
In such a manner as I wanted to. 
And I grew heart-sick at the thought of all 



66 IESU1NA. 

The sneers and scorn that would be visited 

By the self-righteous on the unlawful child. 

So I resolved to bring the babe unto her father, 

But not to let him know she was his child. 

I learned what firm he dealt with in the city 

Where I then lived — the city of New York; 

And from the senior partner soon obtained 

The full address of Gilbert Lexington. 

Then, in disguise, I came here with my babe, 

And, stifling all the pleadings of my soul, 

The meanings of my pain, I laid the child 

Upon his doorstep, that she might be nurtured, 

As was her right, in her own father's house. 

My heart seemed breaking when I pressed the last, 

Long, famishing kiss on her unconscious mouth, 

And put her from my nerveless arms away. 

I watched near by until his wife returned, 

(For she was absent when I brought the babe.) 

I watched with eager eyes when she undid 

The basket's covering — jealously watched until 

I saw her pleasant countenance light up 

With joy and love, the mother love, and then, 

I felt my babe was safe, and stole away. 

Since then with hair bedyed and borrowed name 

I've lived among you, winning confidence 

By steady application to the work 

Your kindness furnished me. I've been of late 

Employed as seamstress in this family, 

And that is why I'm here to-day, my friends, 

In season to prevent — thank God! thank God!— 



IESUINA. 67 

My daughter's marriage with her father's son." 
The woman paused, and death-like silence reigned 
A little while, none knowing what to say, 
Until a heavy groan from Philip's breast 
Betrayed the laboring agony within. 
Then Iesuina, with a face that seemed 
Paler in hue than the white robe she wore, 
Murmured in low and reverent tones these words: 
11 Dear Brother, since, in His inscrutable wisdom, 
The Lord has chosen to impose upon us 
This burden, seeming more than we can bear, 
Let us entreat that He will give us strength 
Sufficient for our need. O dearest Philip! 
Weep, freely weep; those tears will do you good; 
See, mine burst forth in sympathy with yours; 
He sends us tears to wash away our pain." 
Her voice was calm and steady while she spoke, 
But on her forehead flamed the crimson cross, 
Betokening how her inmost soul was moved. 
Advancing to her fostermother's side, 
She tenderly embraced her, kissing both 
Her pallid cheeks; then turning to the woman — 
The weary looking woman who had made 
The terrible disclosure, and who claimed 
To be her natural parent, she knelt down, 
And kissed her trembling fingers o'er and o'er, 
And laid her cheek against her beating heart. 
Some broken words of sympathy and love, 
Unheard by others, passed between the pair; 
And then, with resolution in her eye, 



68 IESUINA. 

Spake Iesuina. " I shall go with her — 
My new-found mother; she has need of me. 
But first I would sincerest thanks return 
For all the care and kindness I've received 
Since first I entered this beloved home. 
Be sure my memory will retain forever 
Its deep impressions of your faithful love, 
My dearest, dearest friends, — and now — farewell. 
She took her mother's hand, and led her out, 
And none presumed to stay them. ' It is best 
For her to go away,' each felt in secret. 
1 Under the circumstances it is best.' 
The guests ere long departed, wondering much 
How this unfortunate affair would end. 
Whether the wife, so outraged and deceived, 
Would, after thirty years of wedded life, 
Sever the knot hymenial, or, with love 
Forgiving and compassionate, put away 
The memory of her husband's perfidy, 
And still remain his household's guardian. 
She chose the latter course, and he, in shame 
And deep contrition, felt his punishment 
Was greater than her anger could have wrought 
Remorse preyed on his conscience, day by day, 
As he beheld his son's dejected mien, 
Once unsurpassed in manly energy, 
And, grieving o'er the pain his sin had caused 
To those he loved, he slowly sank and died. 



IESUINA. 69 



Part Fourth. 



When Fairy entered first her new abode, 

A gloomy, restless feeling overcame 

Her natural gladness and content of mind. 

The very atmosphere seemed weighted with 

Some dismal secret, whose dark pinions fanned 

Her brow by night and day; and, when alone 

She sat and mused, the silence soon became, 

She knew not why, quite insupportable. 

One night, while lying at her husband's side, 

Her thoughts 'gan ranging o'er her bygone life; 

That fair and peaceful landscape, 'mong whose hills, 

And vales, and nooks, and groves, and fragrant bowers 

The merry sunbeams played at hide and seek. 

Farther and farther in the misty realms 

Of memory they wandered, till at last 

They crossed the border land of infancy, 

And lost themselves amid forgotten paths. 

While thus she lay communing with the past, 

An icy chill crept slowly o'er her brow, 

Arresting and congealing, suddenly, 

The mental flow of sparkling images 

Proceeding from the fountain of her brain; 

And then before her wondering eyes appeared 

A beauteous vision. 'Twas a female form 

Robed in a vesture made of gossamer threads, 

O'er which were sprinkled countless glittering stars, 

So tiny that a thousand could have lain 



70 IESUINA. 

Uncrowded in the cradle of a tear. 

A golden veil, made of her own soft hair, 

Rippled adown her cheeks and snowy breast 

Even to her waist; and on her brow she wore 

A wreath of amaranth, that exhaled an odor 

More exquisite than any known on earth. 

Her small white hand was raised as if in warning, 

While in the other lay a withered rosebud 

On which a worm was feeding. Tenderly 

She seemed to gaze upon the faded thing, 

Then murmuring low, 'Beware!' she passed away, 

And darkness gathered where her form had been. 

That icy charm dissolved to be succeeded 

By the o'erpowering spell of morpheus, 

And Fairy soundly slept. When she awoke 

She said 4 'Twas but a dream — a curious dream 

I'll think of it no farther.' So she tried 

To drive away the ominous word, Beware, 

That darkly lingered in her memory. 

A week passed ere the vision was repeated, 

But then the lovely phantom longer stayed, 

And seemed more strangely earnest than before. 

She pointed to the rosebud in her hand, 

Then to the sleeper lying at Fairy's side, 

And said, in solemn tones, "Beware of him. 

Dost thou not understand ? " and with a sigh 

Melted away beneath the watcher's gaze. 

Again the spell of slumber overcame 

The young wife's senses, and when morning dawned 

Again she thought, ' 'Twas nothing but a dream.' 



IESUINA. 71 

Yet was her spirit troubled in the days 
And nights that followed; feelings undefined 
Rose up from out her soul's unfathomed depth's 
And agitatedly went to and fro, 
Seeking they knew not what. 

Another week 
Went by, and then the spirit came again 
To Fairy, clearer, lovelier than before. 
No rosebud now she held, but in its place 
Was seen an infant, beautiful in face, 
But ah! its form was shrunken and deformed, 
And limbless, also. Fairy gazed with wonder 
And pity intermingled on the babe 
While thus the phantom spake; "Behold, I come. 
It is the third time; it will be the last. 
Thou hast not comprehended me. I'll speak 
In plainer terms to-night. The warning shall 
Enter the chambers of thy mortal ears, 
And shout so loud that echo, in thy brain, 
Will long repeat the words it uttereth. 
My child, thou knowest not that neath thy heart 
A seed is germinating; yet, 'tis so; 
And it may grow to bless thee in the future 
If thou canst unmolested nurture it 
With thy unblemished body and pure mind; 
But he thou trustest hath a poisonous breath 
That, falling on thy undeveloped flower, 
Will blight it and defeat fond Nature's plan. 
Behold the mutilated little one 



72 IESUINA. 

My arms sustain; look on it and beware! 

To us whom ye call angels thus it came. 

Myriads of such unfortunates we know 

Are daily launched into our spirit realms 

By ignorant, reckless parents, who thus darken 

Their future that might else be fair and bright. 

Mortals who with indignant horror view 

The deed called murder perpetrated on 

A living, palpitating human being 

Made tangible to dull material senses, 

Will quite remorselessly destroy the form 

They deem is visible to God alone. 

Enough, my child; I've warned thee; be not tempted 

Against thy better nature to do evil. 

I go — be wise — be firm — and now — farewell." 

A flood of darkness seemed to Fairy's vision 

To swallow up the sunshine of that presence 

Which never more appeared to her in life. 

Long did she muse, and fitful were her musings. 

Now joyful, now despondent, now inspired 

With hope, and now oppressed with fear and gloom. 

O mothers, you will understand her well — 

You who have trembled when 'twas first revealed 

That in the hid recesses of your being 

A new germ was unfolding, all dependant 

Upon you for its welfare in this world. 

As time went on and Fairy realized 

The truth that in her own form's sanctuary 

The mystery, yet unsolved by human thought, 



IESUINA. 73 

Of Deity's incarnation had been wrought, 
A strong desire possessed her to impart 
The knowledge unto him who of all others 
Should most encourage her amid the trials 
Attendant always on maternity; 
For, patient, suffering mothers, well you know 
If ever sympathizing love is needed 
By sensitive natures, it is needed then. 

One evening when, in pleasant rivalry, 

The lamps and fire essayed to flood the room 

With more than wonted splendor, Fairy drew 

A footstool near the sofa whereon lay 

Her husband. Taking then his hand in hers, 

She laid her cheek upon it, and, in tones 

Made tremulous by the feeling in her heart, 

She told her secret. What was the result ? 

No warm response, no fond embrace, no smile 

Of joy repaid the young wife's confidence. 

Silence prevailed until she, weeping, said, 

In broken accents, "Why are you not glad ? " 

Then did he turn and coldly answer her, 

"Because I want no puling brats about 

To plague and fret me in their infancy 

And thwart and curse me when they're older grown. 

If you so love me as you have professed, 

You'll see to it in time that no such vipers 

Are propagated. There are many ways 

Of crushing them ere they have left their nests, 

And all who take this sensible course confer 



74 IESUINA. 

A blessing on the over-peopled world. 5 * 

Fairy released his hand and in mute horror 

Crouched on the floor while loudly in her ears, 

As if some clear-toned bell had pealed the words. 

There rang, 'Beware of him! beware of him! ' 

He then continued, — "Maybe you are shocked 

To hear me speak thus; but you're over nice. 

I only ask you to commit an act 

Which thousands of good, moral, christian women 

Perform in secret, and talk lightly of 

With one another." " O, it cannot be! " 

Cried Fairy; " Surely never mother lived, 

I mean a christian mother, who could kill 

Her offspring. Pagan mothers do, I know; 

But they, poor creatures, think they're pleasing God 

By sacrificing unto Him their babes, 

Their best beloved on earth." "Oh well," he said, 

Go ask physicians — old ones who have had 

Extensive practice; they'll enlighten you. 

For you, my wife, are woefully ignorant 

Of many things — innocent some would term it; 

But in my estimation innocence 

And ignorance are one. Ask them, I say; 

They'll tell you, and with truth, that where one child 

Is sacrificed in heathendom, no less 

Than fifty are destroyed in Christendom. 

The only difference 'twixt the heathen mother 

And she who claims to follow Christ, 

Is that the first lets Nature have her course 

Until the child has breathed the atmosphere 



IESUINA. 75 

And lain awhile upon her dusky breast; 

Then, with her earthly and her heavenly love 

Fiercely conflicting, swift she rushes forth 

And flings her bantling to the crocodile, 

And feels her God's appeased, her duty's done. 

While she, who's trained in Christian schools, who's 

born 
Of Christian parents, knowing that the laws 
Both human and divine pronounce child murder 
An heinous crime, evades the penalty 
Attached to it and, like a sensible woman, 
Destroys her offspring ere it sees the light; 
Thus ridding it, herself, and family, 
Of much annoyance, sorrow, pain and care." 
I'm but a child in knowledge," Fairy said, 
But it does seem to me that pain, and care, 
And sorrow, and annoyance are in truth 
God's purifying agents, sent to change 
Our human nature into the angelic. 
Why should we seek to shun them since they come 
With such high purpose — since their magical touch 
Converts us into angels?" "Devils, rather!" 
Abruptly, he exclaimed. " Don't sermonize 
Like this to me. I'm older, and know more 
Of life than you, I trow. Let us return 
Unto the starting point. Will you regard 
My wishes, yield a wife's obedience, 
Or will you, like a froward child, provoke 
My anger ?" Fairy's voice was calm and firm 
While thus she answered. "I will do my best 



76 IESUINA. 

To guard, to cherish, to improve the soul 

Consigned to me. My love, my life, shall stand 

'Twixt it and danger till it shall attain 

Sufficient bodily and mental strength 

To serve, protect and elevate itself." 

To this he nought replied, but on his face 

A dark expression settled, and the air 

About him grew so suddenly chill that she 

Could feel its coldness pierce her genial heart. 

He presently arose, and in dumb anger, 

Ever more dangerous than noisy rage, 

Strode from the room. Soon afterward she heard 

The street door's sullen clang as it was shut 

In haste behind him; then the young wife bowed 

Her head upon her hands and wept and prayed 

For strength and guidance in her future course. 

When he returned at midnight, all was dark 

And silent in the mansion — she had fled. 

Part Fifth. 

There was a storm upon the deep. The waves 

Of ocean rose in wrath against the clouds, 

And battled with them. Eagerly they sought 

To grasp their enemies and drag them down 

Into their seething, terrible abysses. 

Upon their side, with hideous shriek and wail, 

The wild winds fought, and strove to tear the clouds 

To fragments and disperse them through the skies. 

But they had called the lightnings to their aid. 



IESUINA. 77 

Who pierced with glittering spears the boastful billows, 

While all the thunders clapped their hands and roared 

In hoarse applause. From rise to set of sun 

The conflict had continued, and white clots 

Of foam hung thick on ocean's tumbled mane; 

But still no signs of faltering were perceived 

On either side by those who watched the strife 

With interest and wonder. Many were 

The cottages that lined the rocky co'ast 

Of that part of New England where unite 

The states of Massachusetts and New Hampshire. 

Poor were the inmates, mainly, and the men 

Provided for their families by entrapping 

Unwary members of the finny tribe 

As they disported in their briny bath. 

This eve, however, all sat hushed around 

Their cheerful firesides; for when Nature yields 

To passion's fierce, ungovernable sway, 

Man, awed by her excess, grows strangely calm 

And thoughtful witnessing her mighty power. 

Anon, amid the tumult of the waves, 

The bellowing of the winds, the thunder's roar, 

There came a sound which sent a deathly chill 

Into all pitying hearts. It was a gun 

From some doomed vessel by destruction driven 

Too near the dangerous reef. When it was heard 

The listless forms within the cottages 

Grew active on a sudden. Hats and coats, 

Rough like the wearers, and like them stout and true, 

Were seized and donned in haste, and ropes and planks 



78 IESUINA. 

And other needful articles were borne 
On shoulders broad, toward the slippery beach. 
The fishermen their practiced vision strained, 
But nothing could discern until a stroke 
Of lightning fired the murky atmosphere 
For one brief instant; then the ship was seen; 
But whether on the heaving sea she rode, 
Or on the billowy clouds, no mortal eye 
Could well determine. Still at intervals 
Her call for aid came booming through the storm 
And shook each stalwart frame with deep emotion; 
For well these listeners knew what agonies 
Of thought, what tortured feelings found 
An utterance in that cannon's loud report. 
Two anxious hours the men walked to and fro 
Upon the beach, or stood in silent groups, 
During which time the gallant vessel held 
Her own against the ravening elements. 
At length the minute gun no more was heard 
And then they shook their heads and murmured low 
"The ship has surely struck and swamped!" 

As if 
To verify their words, an angry wave 
Flung at their feet a pale and ghastly corse. 
Soon other bodies followed. Some were lashed 
To boards; some clung, with stiffened, bloodless hands, 
To fragments severed from the vessel's masts; 
But all, save one, were lost to earthly life. 
This one forlorn survivor of the wreck 
Had been so mauled, so bruised, so buffeted 



IESUINA. 79 

By the mad waves that he lay quite bereft 
Of consciousness; yet burned the lamp of life 
With faint and flickering radiance in his breast. 

" What's best to do for him ? " the men inquired 
Of one another, when one forward stepped 
And said, "We'll carry him to Mistress Grove's 
And let her daughter tend him; she has brought 
Many a dying wight to life again. 
Her very look brings healing, I believe; 
She is so good and sinless of herself." 
The rest assenting, soon the man was borne 
To one of the white cottages that stood 
fronting the ocean. Answering their knock 
Two women came, one young and beautiful, 
The other middle-aged, whose chastened mien 
Betokened care and sorrow in the past. 
With kindly words they bade their neighbors bring 
Their burden in the house, which, being done, 
They both drew nigh to gaze upon his face. 
Soon as the younger woman's glances fell 
Upon him she, with trembling voice, exclaimed 

"O mother, mother! it is Robert Ives! 
You knew him, did you not, in years gone by ? " 

"Yes, Iesuina, yes, I knew him well. 
Poor fellow, it is he, indeed! indeed! 
Quick bring the cordial; we must rescue him 
From death if possible." When his eyes unclosed, 
The face of Iesuina was the first 
Fair object they beheld. He looked on it 
Awhile in wondering silence, then exclaimed 



80 IESU1NA. 

Abruptly, in his own old way, "Good God! 
Where am I. anchored? Is this heaven or earth ?" 

" Tis both," she gently said, " for God is here, 
And heaven attends His presence. He has saved 
Your life this night when many others perished. 
He saved and brought you hither to your friends." 
Long explanations followed when the men 
Had all departed. Then, in softened tones, 
He told how he had wrestled night and day 
With his rebellious nature, till, at last, 
Virtue had proudly triumphed over passion; 
How he had grown to think of her as one 
Set high like some fair star to be adored 
But never reached. The while he talked of her, 
Warm blushes overspread her cheek and brow, 
And the soft, dove-like eyes refused to meet 
His earnest gaze. The mother now related 
Her daughter's story — sad — unusual — 
To which he listened in astonishment 
And hidden rapture that she now was free. 

" Yet free! yet free! " the syren songster, Hope, 
Warbled to his fond heart. "Yet free! yet free!" 
Then sternly he rebuked himself for thus 
Rejoicing when her soul had suffered pain 
Most terrible if she had loved like him. 

When morning, with her fair face wreathed in smiles, 
Approached, the night with all its horrors fled 
In haste before her. Still the sea disdained 
To hearken to her calm, persuasive voice; 



IESUINA. 

And moaned and tossed in fierce disquietude 

For many hours. The beech was thickly strewn 

With fragments of the wreck, and men and women, 

With eager faces, raked the yielding sand 

For sea-imbedded treasures. Tenderly 

The bodies were prepared for burial 

By the warm-hearted people of the coast. 

As many heartfelt sighs, perhaps, were breathed, 

As many real tears of sorrow shed 

Upon the strangers' monumentless graves, 

As oft attends the pompous funerals 

Of fashion's votaries, when the sombre hearse, 

Preceding an array of carriages, 

Some without occupants, pursues its way 

Scarce noticed through the city's crowded streets. 

In Iesuina's home the ship-wrecked one 

Slept long and soundly, and awoke refreshed 

In mind and body; for the atmosphere 

Around was permeated by the pure 

Magnetic aura of the higher life, 

That, drawn by strong affinity, attends 

Our earth's angelic-souled inhabitants. 

A new surprise awaited Robert Ives, 

For when the cheerful dinner hour drew nigh 

There came to greet him Fairy Lexington 

And a bright, blue-eyed boy of five years old, 

Who called her mother, and who ruled with power 

Despotic in that little family group. 

Yes, this had been her refuge since she fled 

In terror from the tyrant who had sought 



IESUINA. 

To load her with a foul, unnatural crime. 

And what of him ? you ask. Well, he no more 

Was found in any of the haunts of life. 

He had escaped to that mysterious realm 

Where, let us trust, he learns, in higher schools, 

Great Wisdom's lessons of true holiness. 

Before he crossed death's river he addressed 

A letter to his wife, which told how he 

Had violated, in his early life, 

The laws of God and Nature — how he'd struck 

Pain's venomous dagger to his father's heart, 

Who, on his dying bed, thus prophesied, 

In solemn tones: "My son, if thou dost live 

Until thy children grow to man's estate, 

Thou shalt be cursed by them more cruelly 

Than I, thy father, have been cursed by thee; 

Remember this." The prophecy, then despised, 

Cankered his memory in after life, 

And oft unto himself he swore that none 

Should call him father — should survive to breathe 

The tainted air of earth. Remorse and gloom 

Oppressed his soul when at his board was seen 

No more the sweet face of his innocent wife; 

Until, at last, incited by despair, 

He tore his own life's wedded links apart. 

Part Sixth. 

'O beauteous sunset! O celestial sea 
Of blended green and gold and crimson hues, 



IESUINA. S$ 

O'er which the silvery cloud-fleets smoothly glide. 

My soul aspires to dip its wings in thee, 

Thou tranquil deep, thou bath of poesy!" 

Thus Iesuina murmured, as she stood 

Upon the sands one golden summer's eve. 

But Robert Ives, who saw within her eyes 

All that was lovely in the earth or skies, 

Impetuously exclaimed, "My soul prefers 

To dip its pinions in a sweeter bath — 

The ocean of delight surrounding thee. 

O Iesuina, once again I sue 

For this dear hand. Be thou my precious wife. 

Sure nothing, darling, stands between us now." 

She yielded for a moment to the fond 

And almost fierce carresses heaped upon her, — 

How could she otherwise ? then bowed her head 

Upon his bosom, whispering, "Only death." 

What mean you, Iesuina?" he inquired, 

Shivering with terror at the ominous words. 

She took his hand and held it to her heart 

While thus she spake: "My friend, I long have 

known 
That an incurable disease lurked here 
Gnawing and gnawing through the days and nights. 
But I have kept the secret to myself 
That mother might find happiness on earth 
A little longer. I am all in all 
To her, as I believe I am to you." 

He felt like one who, drowning, stretches forth 
His hand to grasp some buovant object near, 



84 IESUINA. 

And sees it float away beyond his reach. 

" My God! why is it we must suffer so 
In life ?" he said. " What good can e'er result 
From disappointments, heartfelt wretchedness, 
Losses and sickness, pain of body and mind, 
And all the evils we are doomed to know ? " 

" They all have their good uses," she replied. 

" They lift the mind from earthly hopes and loves 
To heavenly aspirations and affections. 
They kindle on the altar of the soul 
A purifying flame, that quick consumes 
All grosser particles within our natures, 
And fits us for the after life divine. 
You're better, nobler for your sorrows, Robert; 
You'll be yet nobler in the time to come, 
And love me with a purer, higher love 
Than that which agitates your being now. 
I'll hover near thee. I'll watch over thee 
With all a guardian angel's patient care. 
And thou wilt join me when thou hast become 
God-like in virtue and in self control. 
Have faith, have faith; believe my prophecy 
As thou believest in my swerveless truth." 
He knelt before her, and laid his brow 
Upon her hand, while thus he answered her: 

"For thee I will subdue my selfishness; 
For thee I'll suffer martyrdom; for thee 
Restrain my passionate yearnings, and allow 
Nought to allure me from the holy path 
Wherein thou walkest, O mine own, mine own! " 



IESU1NA. 85 

Part Seventh. 

Again 'tis eventide; and silently 

The dew descends to bless the beauteous flowers 

That gently swing their perfumed censers o'er 

The graves of Iesuina and her mother. 

Beside them stands a group of human forms 

Whose faces are familiar. Robert Ives, 

Ennobled by the sorrow he has proved, 

Breathes from his inmost soul impassioned thoughts 

Around her who in spirit smiles beside him — 

The Iesuina of his past and future. 

Not far from him are Fairy and her child, 

And Philip Lexington, whose arm is thrown 

Supportingly about his mother's waist, — 

His aged mother who has come to take 

A last look at the grave in which is hid 

The mortal raiment of her foster daughter 

Ere she returns with her beloved ones 

To their old home beside the murmuring lake. 

They lingered long as loth to quit the place, 

Until the full moon, in her silver car 

Swift riding, left the horizon far behind; 

Then with a blessing on each trembling lip, 

They left those twin graves in the care of God. 



Miscellaneous Poems. 



ODE TO LIFE. 

INCOMPREHENSIBLE art thou, O Life! 
O stern, weird priestess of the Deity! 
Cradled in darkness, reared amid the strife 
Of warring elements, we gaze on thee 
With mingled love and awe, not knowing what we see. 

For thou art veiled, and none may rend away 

The filmy covering that envelops thee; 

And youth matures, and manhood groweth gray 

While vainly seeking for the magic key 

That shall unlock thy lips, thou stubborn mystery. 

Near to Eternity's wide open gate, 

Whose cloud-hung pillars tower above the sky, 

Thou standest, and each traveller, desolate, 

Kisses thy garments as he passes by, 

And loses thee, how oft, with fond, regretful sigh. 

Thou art attended by a motley throng 
Of handmaidens, who minister to thee, 
Now bringing thee a prayer, and now a song, 
And now a curse, which last annulled shall be, 
From the surrounding kingdom of Humanity. 

The Past behind thee waits in pensive mood; 
Her dark hair, falling o'er her gloomy brow, 



90 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Sparkles with gems, the legacies of the good, 
And great, and wise, who labored long below 
The Heavens celestial, where they live and labor now. 

The Present, cleaving closely to thy side, 
Upon thee turns her eager, hopeful eyes. 

"O mistress sweet! though good or ill betide, 
I will remain thy faithful slave," she cries, 

" And aid with all my strength thine every enterprise." 

Anon, about fair Hope she wreathes her arms, 
And lays her cheek upon her snowy breast; 
And then to thee, O Life, the pair sing psalms 
Of wondrous beauty, counselling thee to rest 
In peace, since Truth proclaims, God wills all for the 
best. 

The Future, veiled and mantled, like a star 
All shrouded in a silver-fringed cloud, 
Lifteth her voice to greet thee from afar. 
"Welcome!" she cries, in accents clear and loud, 
11 O sovereign Queen of Life, to serve thee I have vowed. 

I'll spread a smoother pathway for thy feet; 

I'll weave a brighter covering for thy head; 

I'll give Content, to make thy train complete; 

And Harmony, whose mission 'tis to wed 

And bring all jarring souls to one blest marriage bed. 

Then shall thy subjects see thee face to face, 
And learn to understand thy purposes 
Until, inspired, they lovingly embrace, 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 91 

And tell each other of their inward bliss, 

And glowing dreams of joy exceeding even this." 

Thus sings the Future. Let us then await 

Her beautiful approach, and hourly pray 

That it may be our spirits' blessed fate, 

Even while they animate these forms of clay, 

To witness thee revealed, O Life, by Truth's clear ray. 



ANGEL TEACHINGS. 

OWHEN the sunset furls her golden banner, 
And daylight fades away, 
When planetary hosts rise on our vision, 

When flows the milky way, 
Bathing the brow of night in streams of glory, 
Come, love, to me, I pray, 

And I will tell thee of a rare existence 

Beyond Death's heritage; 
And read to thee what Truth herself has written, 

From a celestial page; 
And show thee wonders yet unthought, undreamed of 

By mortal bard or sage. 

When, unobscured, thy heaven-directed vision 
Pierces the walls of space, 



92 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

And, unrestrained, thy soul with mine may wander, 

What pathways we will trace, 
Leading to Nature's innermost recesses, 

Replete with every grace. 

There we will open Wisdom's mighty volume, 

And I'll unfold to thee 
Whate'er thou comprehendest not, O loved one, 

Of its grand imagery; 
For it is full of deep and hidden meaning 

To which is found no key. 

But we explain it as we understand it. 

What more can any do? 
We are immortal teachers of earth's offspring, 

Whose clouded eyes but view 
A pigmy sand-hill where we see a mountain 

Uprear its crest of blue. 

Heaven is within you and around you; ever 

Its angels hear you call; 
But well we know that from your spirit's vision 

The blinding scales must fall 
Ere you can grasp at will the great creations 

Or the exceeding small. 

Believe us, man has but a faint conception 

Of what himself contains, 
Or the dense orb that holds him to its bosom 

By strong material chains, 
Or the light atmosphere that surges round it 

And his control disdains. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 93 

The meanest weed your feet have crushed in passing 

Along the dusty road, 
The, to you, loathsome reptile which you start from, 

The worm beneath the sod, 
Bear all of them, enstamped upon their natures, 

The sacred seal of God. 

We need not tell you this of birds and flowers, 

Whose beauty you adore; 
We need not tell you this of stars and rainbows, 

For oft to them you soar, 
And at your poet-font of fervent feeling 

Baptize them o'er and o'er. 

These have developed into grace external 

Of form; we have no need 
To bid you love them, and be glad in loving, 

And yield them ample meed 
Of praise; then let us turn, dispassioned, 

To reptile, worm and weed. 

Even they, my love, were fair to you in childhood, 

Before your infant eyes 
Were taught by prejudice to loathe and shun them; 

Ay, there the secret lies; 
The teachings of the elder mold the younger; 

Then should the first be wise. 

Nature makes no distinction 'mong her children; 
They all draw from her breast 



94 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

The nourishment they need, and all in garments 

Most suitable are dressed. 
Then why with self-debasing scorn should any 

Look down upon the rest ? 

Each atom is an undeveloped treasure — 

A germ from which may spring, 
To grace the annals of a far-off future, 

Some great and glorious thing; 
Then judge not rashly, child, the meanest creature 

That chance may near you bring. 

Perfect thyself, and be thou self-sustaining; 

Revere Christ's golden rule; 
And hearken unto Reason when he urges; 

No longer play the fool; 
Be taught no more by Prejudice and Folly, 

But go to Wisdom's school. 



THE ANGEL'S PROPHECY. 

AN ANGEL with the prophet's far-off look, 
Uttered these words in my attentive ear: 
" Child, in the darksome ages of the past 
A chilling vapor overspread the world, 
And only they who had the strength and will 
To scale the loftiest mountains, could perceive 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 95 

The dawn that heralded the near approach 

Of that most glorious orb, the sun of knowledge. 

The seers, of whom some were to good inclined, 

And some to evil, being thus informed 

More than their brethren of the vales and plains, 

Came down among them to impart the news 

So wondrous of a grand and perfect day 

That soon would bathe them in celestial light. 

But now the evil-minded prophets taught 

That they possessed the supernatural power 

To hasten or retard the blessed event 

For which all looked with upturned, anxious eyes. 

Then did the trembling awe-struck multitude 

With reverence gather round these self-styled gods 

To do them homage. Thus their thrones were built 

Upon credulity, and they became 

Tyrants and libertines. The earth with blood 

Was deluged, and Peace sought in vain to teach 

The useful and the ornamental arts. 

Slowly the sun ascended, and across 

The murky sky the swift cloud-couriers sped, 

Bearing their lustrous banners stamped with words 

So legible that all might read with ease: 

Justice, Equality, Love, Wisdom, Truth, 

Emancipation from the festering chains 

Of Selfishness and Sin and Ignorance. 

Freedom for all to worship as they list 

The Soul divine that Nature animates. 

Such were the mottoes on those flags of light; 

And they became enstamped upon the minds 

Of all whose aspirations upward turned. 



g6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Higher the sun ascended, and the hills 

Were wreathed in splendor, and the darkness cowered 

And clung in terror to the skirts of earth. 

Electric thrills of expectation stirred 

The depths of human feeling. Men began 

To think and slowly question one another. 

Reason was heard with calmness and respect, 

While Superstition drooped her sable wings, 

Bewailing her unhappy future lot, 

Since universal and despotic power 

Might ne'er be hers to wield at will again. 

Still higher climbs the sun, and now the brows — 

The upturned foreheads of the multitude, 

Are bathed in his pellucid waves of light. 

Men, wondering, learn of things they dreamed not ot 

While groping in the darkness of the past. 

They see the vastness of their sphere of life, 

That farther reaches than e'en thought itself 

Into the measureless deep on every side. 

They see the shining opportunities 

Bejewelling the mantle of the future. 

They see each other's weakness, and they learn 

To lean on the Creator, not the creature. 

fhey see the foot-prints of the Deity 

Impressed on Nature everywhere. They see 

Their former soulless idols shattered fall 

Before Progression, who, in trumpet tones, 

Cries, ' Men and women, these momentous times, 

Foretold so oft by prophets in the past, 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Are now revealing to your startled view 

Their marvelous creation. Live and learn. 

Ere long yon golden beams shall flood the earth, 

And swallow all the lingering shades of night. 

Then will Heaven stoop to clasp in fond embrace 

The enraptured World, and crown her placid brow 

With fair Perfection's never-fading wreath. 

Take courage, ye who with despondence mourn 

The piteous wrongs of poor humanity; 

Lift up your drooping heads: the blessed hour, 

The hour of change, draws nigh; the hour draws nigh. 



GERM GROWTH. 

ONE smiling morn we placed, with eager hands, 
The seed of an endeavor in the earth, 
And prayed that God would bless it with His love. 
That seed has germinated. From its heart 
A tender shoot has risen, and in all 
Its fibres throbs the wondrous pulse of life. 
O ye, who have the seedling in your care, 
Neglect it not. Destroy all hurtful weeds 
That would pollute its infant purity. 
Let the warm sunshine and the healthful air 
Have access to it. Feed its spreading roots 
With soil nutritious, that it may expand 
To noble stature in the coming time. 



98 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

No ingrate shall you find your foster-child; 

It will repay your labor and your care 

A thousand fold when sage maturity 

Has crowned with wisdom its imperial head. 

The tiny buds that on its stem appear 

Will grow to sheltering branches, where you may 

Find pleasant refuge from the furious storms 

That hurl confusion in the lower spheres. 

Its leaves shall drip with balm to heal your wounds. 

Its boughs will shake into your outstretched hands 

Their precious burden of delicious fruit. 

Cherubs, in form of birds, shall sit and sing 

Among its foliage songs of gratitude. 

Their tuneful strains shall move all those who hear 

To blessed deeds of love and charity, 

Whose influence will spread from zone to zone 

Impregnating the viewless atmosphere. 

Then Life, deep-drinking from Truth's mighty fount, 

From day to day shall better, purer grow, 

Till she has realized the blissful dreams 

Of poets, prophets, seers in ages past. 

O let us wait with patience until then, 

Doing, meanwhile, the work assigned to us 

By the arch-ruler of our destiny. 

Each soul shall know its own allotted task; 

Each is responsible for its own deeds; 

No more, nor less; then let us all look well 

Unto ourselves, our thoughts, our words, our acts; 

They are the steps by which we mount to heaven, 

Or else, alas! alas! descend to hell. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 99 



A DREAM GLIMPSE OF AIDENN. 

THE moon unveiled her brow of flame 
To light the dark-winged evening hours, 
While through my open window came 
The scented breath of summer flowers. 

No song arose from gleeful bird, 

No wandering breeze awoke a sound; 

The insect's chirp alone was heard 
To break the quietude profound. 

I slept. Ah heaven! how sweet is sleep 
To weary hearts and weary brains; 

How sweet the dreams that mist-like creep 
Above our waking cares and pains. 

I slept, and the goddess of visions drew near me, 
And pressed on my eyelids her magical spell. 
"O sad one," she murmured, "nor tremble, nor fear me, 
I come from my castle of moonbeams to cheer thee; 
Confide in my friendship and all will be well." 

Soon, hand clasped in hand, we ascended together 
The glittering staircase of star-lighted air; 
Up, higher and higher, till light as a feather 
We floated at will in the rarified ether, 
And gazed on creation, so grand and so fair. 



IOO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Above us, beneath us, around us were glowing, 

In radiant colors, the systems of worlds. 

Far spread were those seed-pearls of Nature's own sowing 

And countless as are the soft flakes when 'tis snowing 

Or sun sparkles dancing in Neptune's white curls. 

Advancing, receding in musical motion — 

For motion is music as friendship is love — 

They awoke in my brain thoughts of tender devotion 

And the ice in my heart, 'neath the warmth of emotion, 

Dissolved while I sought the rare chance to improve. 

"Sweet Guide," I exclaimed, "my young spirit is burning 
To search out the mysteries life holds concealed; 
O why should my soul feel such passionate yearning 
For knowledge and truth, far beyond my discerning, 
If nought of their grandeur may now be revealed! " 

The words were scarce uttered, when lo! to my vision 
The vast space seemed peopled with beautiful things. 
There angels, intent on their God-given mission 
Of love to poor mortals yet far from Elysium, 
Flashed hither and thither on thought's lightning wings. 

There Flora, o'erjoyed, poured her wonderous creations, 

Her rarest conceptions, at Poesy's feet, 

Who, smiling, accepted the graceful oblations, 

And crowned them at once with her high inspirations, 

And gave them a place near Eternity's seat. 



MISCELLANEOUS PnEMS. IOI 

There Wisdom's grand temples spread, bird-like, their 

pinions 
O'er myriads of souls seeking knowledge like mine; 
And I knew that I breathed in Truth's mighty dominions 
At last, and I said, " I will kneel with thy minions, 
And worship thee ever, O spirit divine!" 

" All nature, my child, is a school of instruction " ; 
Thus whispered my guide while conducting me forth. 
" Desire it and thou shalt receive by induction 
The knowledge contained in each varied production 
That graces the form of the beautiful earth. 

Immortal thou art, and predestined to gather 
Rare fruits in the gardens of wisdom and joy; 
Then yield to despondence no longer, but, rather, 
Have faith in creation's all bountiful Father, 
Whose love buildeth ever, but will not destroy. 

Too fine for thy vision, too deep for thy reason 
Are things appertaining to these mystic spheres; 
Go back to thy birth-place again, for a season, 
Till death, high dictator, proclaims 'tis no treason 
To break thy allegiance with time's circling years. 

Then, freed from earth trammels, thy jubilant spirit 
Shall soar to the peace-hallowed regions on high, 
Where soon it will proudly and gladly inherit 
The lovely domains, purchased solely by merit, 
For those who have sought her with vigilant eye." 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Descending to my mist-robed home, 

I entered it, with noiseless tread, 
While like a wreath of white sea-foam 

Chased by the breeze, my guardian fled. 

Since when, although no brighter seems 

My outer life, full well I know 
That, bathed in inspiration's streams, 

My soul has ta'en a richer glow. 

I drink the lily's fragrant breath, 

The fire-heart of the rose I bare, 
And watch them till the change called death 

Removes the forms to me so fair. 

Then with my spirit eyes I see 

Their sweet life feeding higher things, 

Their beauty rising silently 

To purer climes, on viewless wings. 

Ah! now I sing, with clear-browed Truth, 

Through want and woe, through dread and pain, 

My soul be joyful, for in sooth 

There is no loss; all change is gain. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I03 



THE CRY OF THE DESOLATE. 

FORTUNE, list to our appeal; 
Turn, oh, turn thy fateful wheel. 
Turn joy up, and sorrow down; 
Let content its apex crown. 
We have shed enough of tears 
In the sullen, bygone years. 
We have poured our share of groans 
On the city's paving-stones. 

Go, hard-hearted sceptics, go 
Ask of them, if you would know 
What we suffer, night by night, 
When the street-lamps are alight. 
They are witnesses for us; 
They can tell you of our curse, 
We, who walk with want and shame, 
We, who bear a blasted name. 

They have seen a mother, wild 
With despair, destroy her child; 
Dash its brains out 'gainst the wall; 
Sink it in the moaning river; 
Heard her heap upon the Giver 
Curses loud and horrible, 
While the tiny form went down — 
Seed in death untimely sown. 



104 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

They have seen a woman tear 
Soft locks from her flowing hair, 
Trample them beneath her feet 
In a rage you dare not meet. 
They have seen her beat her breast 
Till the blood in rills ran down 
O'er her lace-bedizened gown, 
Raving in her sore distress 
Like the ancient Pythoness, 
Only that her ecstasy 
Was a cruel agony, 
While the Priestess, it is said, 
Revelled in high bliss instead. 

They have seen a woman sell 
Soul and body into hell, 
Urged by gaunt starvation on, 
And some loved one's pleading moan- 
Some forlorn dependent, dearer 
Far to her than life or fame — 
Seen her, as the tempter nearer 
Drew, accept the gifts of shame, 
Which might aid her love to save 
That poor idol from the grave. 

O, ye sneering Pharisees! 
Who but mock at things like these, 
We could bring a thousand more 
Such fierce beggars to your door, 
Crying, with increasing din, 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. IO5 

To your conscience, " Let us in. 
Aid us, succor us, we pray; 
Should you spurn us now away 
We will throng about your feet 
In the mart and crowded street; 
You shall have no peace nor rest 
While our wrongs lie unredressed." 

Brothers, we to you appeal, 
Authors of our woe and weal, 
In your mighty strength arise, 
Bare your foreheads to the skies, 
Swear that justice shall be done 
By your blessed hopes of heaven, 
Equal rights to every one, 
Male and female, shall be given. 

Dedicate your lives, henceforth, 
To the service of true worth. 
Aid the advancement of your kind; 
Aid the improvement of the mind; 
Wrong oppose and right befriend, 
Bravely, nobly to the end; 
Then, by no cold doubts' oppressed, 
YOu may enter into rest. 



Io6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



THE INDIAN CHIEF'S REMONSTRANCE. 

PROUD heirs of those that came across the seas 
And brought destruction with them to lay waste 
My people's heritage, and brought disease, 

And strange, death-dealing instruments to haste 
The extermination of my fore-doomed race, 

Think of our homes a hundred years ago, 
And look, O interlopers, at them now! 

Driven, still driven backward by a foe 
Too powerful to resist, we no more know 
Our ancient hunting-grounds, the heavens below. 

What is your argument ? That wide-spread fields 
Of ripening grains, and orchards bending down 

Neath luscious fruits, which cultivation yields, 
Are better far than swampy lands o'ergrown 
With thickets, or the forest's gloomy frown ? 

That your great populous cities, rearing high 
Their costly domes and spires, are better than 

The moose-hide tents, that congregated lie 
A little while in amity, and then 
Are lost, e'en from the memories of men. 

But tastes can differ, and the red-skinned race, 
That peopled once and ruled this mighty land, 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 107 

Loved in God's works his glorious thoughts to trace 
And marvelled most where ocean, tameless, grand, 
Still rolls his thunderous billows o'er the sand. 

They saw more grandeur in the huge rocks piled 
In picturesque confusion on the coast, 

They saw more beauty in their caverns wild, 

And mountain passes, than your towns can boast 
In architecture wrought at fabulous cost. 

They saw more glory in the changing skies, 

Whence sunbeams leap to earth through cloudy bars, 

Where the sweet pilgrim moon, with downcast eyes, 
Walks nightly through a wilderness of stars, 
Than in your many arts brought from afar. 

Thus were your civilized achievements lost 

On Nature's simple offspring; ignorant, 
But loving freedom more than life, they tossed 

Their arms aloft, and prayed that God would grant 

Them vengeance on the wily emigrant, 

Who, coming hither, played upon their trust 
And want of knowledge, and, with crafty face, 

Bought their fair lands for baubles, gone to dust 
Long years ago; a barren resting-place 
Now shelters the poor remnants of their race. 

And later grievances their aid have lent 

To fill my people's veins with rancorous heat; 
Unworthy tools, employed by Government 



I08 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

To deal with them, too oft have used deceit, 
And made your friendship seem a lie and cheat. 

What wonder then if they break out in wrath, 
And strive to right their wrongs by dint of arms ? 

What wonder if they throw across the path 
Of progress obstacles, and ring alarms 
In peaceful ears that thrill with dread of harm ? 

Go see to it that justice first be done 
To every one, and compensation made 

For all the unjust past. Do you atone 

For your short-comings ere you seek to wade 
Through blood to conquest in the next decade. 

Invite their aged chiefs and honored braves 
To meet you where the calumet may be 

Passed round in friendliness; and, while the waves 
From light's pure fount break over you, agree 
To guard as yours their rights and liberty. 

Then keep that promise sacred, that your God 
May kindly bless and prosper all you do; 

And when some time along life's rugged road 
You need a friend's assistance, stanch and true, 
The Indian will be that friend to you. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 109 



A DREAM OF TYRANNY. 

JUDGE if it was a dream. My friend, to me 
It seemed a bitter, hard reality. 
I stood within the drear walls of a prison, 
Beside the fair twin-sister of a youth 
Condemned to death — to a most horrible death. 
One-hundred lashes with the knout. Thus ran 
His sentence by the Tyrant's own hand signed. 
For what unpardonable crime, you ask ? 
For this: The youth, though not of royal blood, 
Possessed a royal mind, that scorned to bow 
In worship of Oppression though he sat 
In jewelled robes of state, enthroned and crowned. 
Much had he studied, had reflected much, 
And once had visited a noble land 
O'er which no haughty despot's shadow broods. 
Here he had drank great draughts from Freedom's springs, 
Had sat upon Equality's broad seat 
With statesman and mechanic, knowing not, 
Both being so intelligent, which most 
Deserved to guide a powerful Nation's helm. 
So much of pure, free thought his mind imbibed, 
That like hot wine it fired his youthful blood, 
And made enthusiasm recklessness. 
When he returned unto his native land 



HO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

He failed not to proclaim his sentiments 
Among the down-crushed people urging them 
To rouse, assert their worth and God-given rights. 
This was his crime. I learned it from the lips 
Of his unhappy sister. Leave was given — 
Graciously given for any of his friends 
To witness "Justice dealing with her foe, 
That they might learn to hold her in respect, 
Nor dare like him to call her Tyranny." 

The victim's gray-haired, broken-hearted sire 
And fair twin-sister had advantage ta'en 
Of that permission; for they said, "If he 
Should live through it our love will ease his pain, 
Our sympathy will shield him from despair." 
I went with them because they had desired 
My company, and they were friends of mine. 
But, oh! I little knew what I should see, 
Or hear, or feel, before an hour went by. 

We found the prisoner pale, but quite composed, 

And he exhorted us to flee away 

Far from the place before the punishment 

Began, lest in his bodily agony 

Some cry might 'scape his lips and frighten us. 

We feigned to yield to his appeal; and when 

The executioner came we left the room, 

And hid us in a little cell near by. 

After awhile we heard the heavy blows, 

But not a cry or groan, save what arose 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Ill 

From our own aching hearts, distressed our ears. 
Twenty were given, and then there was a pause. 
The brutal man was resting from his work 
To gain fresh strength. 

Again the blows began, 
And this time with them shrieks of agony 
So dreadful that my heart with terror shook. 
The two poor sufferers at my side, o'ercome 
By speechless misery, sank upon the ground 
Locked in each other's arms. Her brow was pressed 
Upon her father's shoulder, and her hair 
Covering his breast was moistened with his tears. 
Another shriek. "Ye heavens!" my soul exclaimed, 
My proud and passionate soul — " is there a God ? 
A God who sees and will allow such things 
When with a thunder-bolt he could destroy 
The fiendish perpetrator?" 

Now the cries 
Of piteous entreaty fainter grew, 
And I half mad with grief, and rage, and fear, 
And conscious helplessness, rushed from the cell 
And down the narrow passage 'till I came 
Furious into the hall of punishment. 
There met me such a sight that ne'er I pray 
May eyes of man or woman see again. 
A gory, mangled mass of something lay 
Upon the floor, at which a grim-faced man, 
Armed with a knotted lash, was aiming blows. 
Others were in the room, and one held up 
A narrow piece of skin, some inches long, 



112 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Picked from the floor, which all around was strewn 
With smaller pieces. 

All these things I saw 
At one swift glance. A moment more and I 
Had reached the butcher's side and grasped the knout. 
"Hold! hold! " I cried. "Oh, for the sake of Christ— 
The loving, pitying One — be merciful!" 
But with a curse he wrenched the instrument 
Of torture from my hand, and raised it high, 
Then guided it with vengeful force across 
My naked arms. I felt the wasp-like sting, 
And saw the purple lines that here and there 
Were broken by deep bruises, where the knots 
Had torn the tender flesh, and then I grew 
Quite giddy, and my feet slid in a pool 
Of blood, and all things faded from my sight. 

When I awoke to consciousness again, 

I found myself beside the lifeless corse 

Of her, my late companion. The pure soul 

Had fled on wings of sympathy to join 

Her brother in the peaceful spirit realms. 

The poor, bereft old father in that hour 

Had lost his wits; for this I gave God thanks. 

He knew no other guide than Memory, 

No other friend, but she was all in all 

To him the few months that he longer lived. 

She led him down the green slope of his youth 

Beside the rippling waters, and she sang 

So sweetly of the many happy days 

That poured their gladdening sunshine o'er his past. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 113 

Thus ran my dream; but was it all a dream ? 
Alas! my reason sadly whispers, no. 
Such things have been, and are, and still must be 
In Tyranny's dominions. Then beware. 
Ye habitants of Freedom's happy lands, 
Beware lest Folly let Oppression in. 
Defend your heritage, and show mankind 
The matchless worth of true equality. 



LIFE'S ASPIRATIONS. 



CHILDHOOD. 

OH! Oh! what a world is this! 
What a beautiful, wonderful place! 
And they say it round, like a marble, is 
And rolls on nothing in space. 

And the great, white moon turns somersets, too, 
Though she looks so grave and still; 

And the stars follow suit, in their play-ground blue, 
And tumble with right good will. 



114 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Now I can't understand, though hard I've tried, 
'Tis the greatest puzzle I've found, 

Why things don't fall off from the under side 
If this world of ours be round. 

And how they measure the miles in space, 

And the size of the planets vast; 
Oh! knowledge will lead me a pretty chase, 

But I mean to win her at last. 

The moon soars high through the darksome night; 

What a glorious kite she'd make! 
And I see a star, like a dew-drop bright, 

Close following in her wake. 

O moon, my hopes soar higher than you, 
And my dreams are far more bright; 

Come, manhood, and give me the power to view 
All things now beyond my sight. 

YOUTH. 

Now hurrah! hurrah for pleasure! 
Fun and freedom without measure! 
Joy, lead on; thou art a treasure 

Growing dearer, day by day. 
My dull college life is ended, 
Learning's book wealth all expended, 
And, by tutors unattended, 

Henceforth, I'll pursue my way. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 115 

Lofty sky, with rose hues glowing, 
Warm June winds, around me blowing, 
Mighty river, grandly flowing, 

Towering rock, and waterfall; 
Sunbeams, 'mong the blossoms tangled, 
Earth, with starry flowers bespangled, 
Sweet bird voices, never jangled, 

How I love, enjoy you all. 

Nature, let my ardent spirit 
Thy true majesty inherit, 
That I soon may justly merit 

Human love, and human praise. 
Great, good thoughts within me glowing, 
Great, good deeds would fain be sowing, 
To be ready for the mowing 

In the coming Autumn days. 

MANHOOD. 

Now I stand on Fame's high summit, 

Where the eagles only dwell, 
Gazing on the sun that o'er me 

Swingeth like a burnished bell, 
Listening to the stormy plaudits 

Of the crowd beneath my feet; 
Earth is won, and Time is conquered, — 

Thus my triumph is complete. 

"Warrior, statesman, scholar, poet, 

Great in all, forever reign 
In the Nation's heart and story" — 

Loudly rings the glad refrain. 



Il6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Friends, O friends, who idolize me, 
Can I trust you ? will it last, 

This bright guerdon of ambition 
Longed for in the toilsome past. 

Doubts assail and make me tremble 

On the pinnacle of Fame, 
And I faint beneath the burden 

Of a world-applauded name. 
Weak indeed is human nature; 

Let me lean upon thee, Faith; 
In the work my God assigns me 

Make me constant unto death. 



OLD AGE. 

O my children, my kindred, draw near, 
That no word from my weak lips be lost, 

For the call of the angel I hear, 

And death's river by me must be crossed- 

Death's river by me must be crossed 
Ere the light of the morning appear. 

You stand round in silence and tears, 
While I in my gladness would sing 

Of the melting of time's frosty years 
In the genial sunlight of Spring — 

In the radiant sunshine of Spring 
That illumines the happier spheres. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 117 

Joy! joy! I may now put away 

This age-crumbling ruin of earth — 
This body long given to decay, 

And prepare for a loftier birth — 
A higher, a holier birth 

Into regions of infinite day. 

With the eyes of my soul I descry 

The loved ones who entered before, 
Through the mystical gate of the sky, 

The gardens that I shall explore — 
That I shall with rapture explore; 

O soul, loose thee quickly and fly. 

Fly, fly to the beautiful arms 

That are stretched to enfold thee in bliss, 
To the love that all evil disarms, 
To the sphere, whose superlative charms 

Are dimly foreshadowed in this — 

Are barely prefigured in this. 



EIGHTY-FIVE. 

EIGHTY-FIVE to-day! I stand 
On the lonely border land 
Of that country all untried — 
Lonesome since none with me go; 
All my loved ones long ago 
Left me for the other side. 



Il8 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Other homes ere this they've found, 
Other ties their souls have bound, 

And perchance they have forgot 
Him who lingered by the way 
Till age shadows, cold and gray, 

Chased him from the olden spot. 

I have not forgotten them, 
Tender branches from my stem, 

Or the partner of my cares. 
And I fondly hope and pray 
As they fill my thoughts alway 

I may claim a part of theirs. 

Hasten, death, and lead me there, 
I will now myself prepare 

For the change what e'er it be. 
Take my blessing, earth, once dear, 
And thou new life drawing near, 

Make my hopes reality. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



GOOD-NIGHT. 

DEAR friends, the parting moment comes; 
Good-night, good-night! 
Soon may we seek our quiet homes 

And firesides bright. 
But often at our evening leisure, 
'Mid those whose love we fondly treasure, 
Shall we recall these hours with pleasure — 
Good-night, good-night! 

Our hearts sing with our lips the words, 

Good-night, good night! 
To swell the soft harmonious chords 

Let all unite. 
Now kindly to each weary singer 
Time points the hour with warning finger; 
Still on our lips the sweet words linger — 

Good-night, good-night! 



120 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



TO A CHILD. 

CHILD, swift-footed as the hours, 
Playmate of the birds and flowers, 
Listening to the robin's note, 
Peeping in the violet's eye, 
Soon thy lengthening vines of thought 
Will o'erspread yon distant sky. 

Soon wilt thou essay to climb 
The cloud-mantled peaks of time, 
To obtain a wider view 

Of man's wondrous heritage. 
To discover something new 

Fit for History's grandest page. 

Child, be happy 'mid thy play, 
Through the present's genial day, 
For some future hours may freeze 

Laughter's spring, and care may drive 
All thy joys, like honey bees, 

Forth to seek another hive. 

Then thou'lt need to seek above 
The unchanging soul of Love, 
The all Good, all Pure, all Wise, 

Who delights to soothe and bless, 
Who bestows what earth denies — 

Peace, and truth, and happiness. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 121 



THE FISHERMEN. 

GOOD-BYE, old wife. Nay, nay, don't cry! 
Though squally looks the eastern sky, 
To beat the storm we've but to try — 
Our three great, stalwart sons and I." 

They launch the boat with hearty cheers, 
To kill the mother's anxious fears. 
Now far away she faintly hears 
Their shouts, and wipes away her tears. 

" May God be wi' them. All I can 
I've done to change their wilfu' plan. 
They strove against me to a man, 
And said they'd ne'er on trifles stan', — 

"Sic trifles as a woman's dreams; 
Though I believe they're scatterin' beams 
That oft from kelpies' torches stream 
To light the future wi' their gleam." 

She shook her head in boding mood, 
And hied her to her dwelling rude; 
There on the threshold long she stood 
To watch the tide's incoming flood. 



122 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

The storm king now bestrides the main, 
The sea-mew shrieks as if in pain; 
The old wife moans, "I wait in vain, 
I ne'er shall hear their shouts again. 

" My good old man, so kind, so leal, 
My lads wi' courage firm as steel, 
What can I do for ye but kneel 
To Him who works our woe and weal." 



The storm has left the mighty deep, 
The moonlight bathes the rocky steep, 
While just below four corses lie, 
With fixed eyes staring at the sky. 



JUST THIRTEEN. 

OH! this is my birthday, mother dear, 
The brightest morning you ever saw; 
And I have been out with the earliest birds 
Singing the merriest songs I know. 

And I've had a race with Tige on the lawn, 
Though the dew lay heavy upon the grass, 

And I bathed in the brook, and dressed my hair 
By the aid of its ruffled looking-glass. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 23 

And brave old Tige went mad with glee 

To see me splash in the waters clear, 
And swam for my hat that the roguish breeze 

Had tossed in the stream from the hillock near. 

O mother, I've entered my teens to-day, 

And I'll very soon be a woman now, 
And then I'll have heaps on heaps of beaux, 

But I'll tease and laugh at them all, you know. 

For the strongest man in this great, round world 
Could not draw me away from my mother's side; 

Nor could the handsomest win my love, 
Nor the haughtiest humble my girlish pride. 

And unless an angel comes down from Heaven, 

A beautiful angel with spotless soul, 
To ask me in marriage, I'll never wed, 

But keep my heart under my own control. 



124 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



FIVE YEARS LATER. 

O MOTHER, I'm just eighteen to-day, 
And I've come to ask for your blessing, dear; 
And I have a sweet confession to make 
That I'll whisper low in your bended ear. 

No, let me kneel. I feel better so, 

For my heart is humble, and I will lay 

My head on your lap, and tell you what 

Has changed your daughter so much to-day. 

Varian Clements has loved me long 

With a strong true love that can never fail; 

A love that will shelter me tenderly 

Through the darkest night and the roughest gale. 

In my castle of ignorance long I lived, 

Defying the winged archer's dart, 
Till his love, like a swollen impetuous stream, 

Burst over the banks that enclosed my heart. 

Mother, my lover has faults I know, 

But I scarcely could wish him sinless quite; 

His virtues by contrast will brighter seem, — 
Would we see the stars if 'twere not for night ? 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I 25 

I'd tremble to wed a spotless mate, 

For love would be lost in worship and fear; 

But, both being frail, we'll join hand in hand, 
Forgiving, forgiven through life's long year. 



LIBERATED. 

POOR broken spirit, low stricken by sorrow, 
Bound in the shadowy cell of despair, 
Rouse thee, now dawneth the promised to-morrow, 
Hope takes the keys from the fingers of care; 
Back flies thy prison door, 
Over thee sweep once more 
Streams of bright sunshine and balm laden air. 

Rise! for the fetters are loosened, are falling 

Off from the limbs they have cumbered so long. 
Listen! thy name gentle voices are calling, 
Bidding thee hasten to join life's glad throng. 
Friendship and Love are there 
Waiting thy form to bear, 
Into the regions of jubilant song. 



126 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



THE ROBIN. 

WHO saw the robin ? I saw the robin 
On the old apple tree pluming his wing. 
Early this morning he came without warning, 
Singing so gaily of beautiful Spring. 

Quickly the buds, when they hear him, will open 
And send forth their leaflets to welcome him back; 

The red-breasted robin, Spring's orchestra leader, 
Best loved of bird minstrels that follow his track. 

He need not fly from the sportsman in terror, 

For nature about him has woven a charm, 
That causes mankind to become his admirers 

And champions, sworn to defend him from harm. 

The children's bright eyes watch his coming with pleasure, 

For he is as busy as busy can be; 
Now building, now feeding his dear little fledgelings, 

Safe hid in their nest in the top of the tree. 

God bless the robin! whose coming so cheers us, 

And brings happy memories of green leaves and flowers; 

Of odorous breezes, and long woodland rambles, 

And peace-hallowed musings in vine-trellaced bowers. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 127 



FLOW SWIFTLY, STREAM OF LIFE. 

FLOW swiftly, stream of life! 
O swiftly bear on thy ruffled breast 
My white winged boat to the port of rest; 
Flow swiftly stream of life. 

O haste thee, stream of life! 

Above us smiles the bright blue sky, 

But clouds may come as in days gone by; 

And the rain may fall as it fell before, 

And the lightnings flash and the thunders roar, 

And the winds that sleep in their caverns now 

May marshal their hosts in the field of air, 

And round me in withering tempests blow, 

And wreck my boat on the rock, despair. 

Flow swiftly, stream of life! 

To the blessed shore I long to see, 

Whose sons and daughters are glad and free; 

They know no sorrow, no care, no pain, 

And their souls from sin receive no stain, 

But each one lives for the good of all 

In that glorious land to which I go, 

Where no winter reigns, no blossom's fall, 

And no hearts lie buried 'neath ice and snow. 



128 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Flow swiftly, stream of life! 

O let thy current be deep and strong; 

And I'll gaily sing as I glide along, 

And my words shall ring through the silence far, 

And pilot the lost, like a guiding star, 

To the haven of plenty, and peace, and rest, 

To the beautiful land I soon shall see, 

Where the good and the true are supremely blest; 

Would'st thou know its name ? 'Tis Eternity. 



THE ANGELS' CALL. 

COME higher! come higher! the angels are calling; 
Come time-ripened manhood and beautiful youth; 
Delay not, for sorrow may seize on to-morrow, 
Come nearer to freedom and virtue and truth. 

Come higher! come higher! the angels are calling; 

Come out of the shadow for danger lurks there. 
Light floodeth forever the mount of endeavor; 

At once to its verdurous summit repair. 

Come higher! come higher! the angels are calling, 
Where Purity smiles from her radiant throne, 

Where joy-bells are ringing and glad voices singing 
Their paeans of triumph for Vice overthrown. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 129 



COME FORTH, O SOUL! 

OSOUL, among life's shadows sitting, 
Come forth, come forth, 
Nor fear to take the place befitting 
Thine own true worth. 

Ascend the regal throne of Honor, 

Accept the crown 
Of Joy, which Love, the smiling donor, 

Has handed down. 

Awake! Arise! put off thy sable; 

Put on thy bright 
And costly robes, since thou art able 

To bear the light. 

The darksome past withdraws, the present 

Is full of cheer, 
And leads to pastures green and pleasant, 

And waters clear. 

A sweet-voiced bird of promise singeth, 
By day and night, 
"Rejoice, O soul! the future bringeth 
To thee delight. 



130 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Henceforth 'twill be thy blessed mission 

To show mankind, 
By aid of Faith's sublime prevision, 

The good designed." 

O, while unfolding to Creation 

The wondrous tale, 
Drink deep; the fount of inspiration 

Can never fail. 



FRUITION. 

RADIANT spirit, 
Bloom into song, 
Scatter sweet odors 
Mortals among. 
Let them enjoy thee, 
Thou wast not made 
Lonely, unnoticed 
To blossom and fade. 

He who is changeless 
Keeps thee in view; 
Thou shalt be nourished 
On sunbeams and dew. 
Now laughs the spring-time, 
Winter is past; 
Beauty and pleasure 
Greet thee at last. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 13] 



EVENING MUSINGS. 

LIKE a demon unconfined, 
Raving, roaring sweeps the wind 
Past my dwelling, this dark evening in the winter of the year; 
Or at times more hushed and mild, 
Sighing, sobbing like a child, 
Who has just received chastisement from the hand it holds 
most dear. 

I have wedged the casements tight, 
That their jar may not affright 
The wee darlings, should they waken in the lonely midnight 
hour, 
And I've drawn my chair still nigher 
To the brightly blazing fire, 
From whose heart the sparks are driven in an iridescent 
shower. 

Muse I thus: How like yon spark, 

Rising, falling in the dark, 
Is my soul, its flight pursuing through the infinite unknown. 

Now submerged by weights of care 

In the ocean of despair, 
Now by fitful breath of trifles on the shores of gladness 
blown. 



132 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

O, what mysteries are we! 
And what mysteries we see 
All around us, working wonders in their God-appointed 
spheres. 
What a mighty sphinx is life 
With its quiet and its strife, 
With its pleasures and its sorrows, with its laughter and its 
tears. 

Somewhere lies the mystic key 

To your being's destiny, 
You may find it if you seek it with unwearying zeal and care. 

Thus the cheering voice of Hope 

Bids us with inaction cope, 
And inspires our faltering energies again to do and dare. 

Wondrous Universe of God! 

E'en the worm beneath the sod 
Has a part in thee, an heritage which nought can tak* 
away. 

When the form external dies 

From its ashes doth arise 
The old spirit in new garments to enjoy its endless day. 

■ 

Would these truths were understood; 

Changes all result in good, 
With the means of high importance for our culture they are 
rife. 

Let us be to fate resigned; 

In the future we shall find 
The unfoldment of our being is the crowning act of life. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 33 



THE CYNIC. 



ITHOUGT it a wonderful world, when a child; yes, I 
thought it 
A mirror of Heaven, a temple of goodness and beauty. 
Ha! ha! well, that time is gone by, long gone by, and I 
vote it 
A humbug, don't you? There! don't preach so severely 
of duty. 



What's duty ? to smother our honest convictions of evil ? 

And only profess to believe in the god-like and holy 
While calmly ignoring the visible proofs of the devil ? 

Bah! when we do that we must dwell with hypocrisy 
solely. 



I tell you the shadows are heavy, and dark, and wide- 
spreading, 
Though you who persistently gaze at the sun will not see 
them; 
And treacherous quicksands lurk under the ground we are 
treading, 
Which others will 'scape not, though we may with safety 
flee them. 



134 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

To do good, to be good is such a continual struggle; 

I tell you, my friend, they who pass through Fame's 
towering portals, 
With fair seeming visages, all in their consciences smuggle 

Some memories carefully kept from inquisitive mortals. 

Ah, well! I am cynical, just as you say; but I pity 

And love poor humanity more that I witness its failings 

And sufferings; so I believe when we enter His City 

Compassion and pardon will tend on our spirit's unveiling 



HIS COURSE. 

"1 TE was born." "What of that? 'tis nothing uncommon," 

11 u He lived, he loved, was loved by a woman. 
He gave form to six beings, his children, and then 
He died." "That's not strange; 'tis the custom of men. 

But, say, while he lived did he wrest from the sun 
One bright pulsing ray to illumine the dark 
In the cavern of ignorance ? Saw you the mark 

Of his axe in the thickets of error ? Not one! 

Then the man was not charged with the spirit of God, 
But served like the cabbage or turnip to feed 

Other physical structures; self-bound to the sod, 
For lofty endeavor he saw not the need. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 135 

Such blockheads are many." " Nay, censure them not; 

In Wisdom's economy all have their worth; 
Higher nature springs from them all glowing with thought, 

As Iris is born of the vapors of earth." 



RUSTIC COQUETRY. 

NONSENSE! how stupid! Why, John, you are dreaming. 
You surely can't mean in the least what you say. 
Go, go. In the barn-yard the cows are all waiting; 
The calves must be fed, and the milk put away. 

Let them wait? No, Indeed! Why, John, did I ever! 

I thought you were always so steady to work. 
For years you've been held as a pattern for others, 

And never were known the least duty to shirk. 

So you mean to remain till I tell you I love you ? 

How tiresome you are, John. I love you of course — 
No, stay where you are — as I love all good people; 

Now, don't look so cross, John, I might have said worse. 

You're going away now to leave me forever ? 

Stay, John, just one moment; sit down again please. 
You know that from childhood like sister and brother 

We've been, and I — well, I was always a tease. 



lyo MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Love you best ? be your wife ? Let us wait a few years, 
John, 

There's time enough yet; we are both young, you know. 
Hark! The clock's striking six, and my supper's not ready; 

Let go of my hand, sir; how can you act so ? 

You will have the word from my lips ? well, then take it; 

How wilful you are, John, how bold, I declare! 
There's a footstep. Thank goodness that somebody's 
coming. 

It's mother. Now kiss me again if you dare! 






TO A BIRD ON HER NEST. 

ODEAR little bird, with soft wings drooping over 
The nest in whose hollow thy fledgelings are sleeping, 
Half hidden from sight 'mong the dew-spangled clover, 
How constant, how true is the watch thou art keeping. 

The mother love, strong in thy nature, compels thee 
To leave thy companions in woodland and meadow, 

To drink in the stories that Syren Hope tells thee, 
While brooding so lonely in solitude's shadow. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 137 



SOUL LONGINGS. 

EVER longing, ever yearning, 
Ever constant, O my soul! 
To thy guide star truly turning 

As the needle to the pole; 
As the sunflower to the golden, 

Gleaming glory of the day, 
As the minstrel to the olden 
Legends that inspire his lay. 

Knowing not where it may lead thee, 

Knowing not what it may be, 
Singest thou, mine own, I need thee, 

Guardian angel, wait for me. 
Wait for me, my feet are weary, 

And the way seems long and drear, 
But thy gentle voice can cheer me, 

I am safe when thou art near. 

Dearest, let the rude winds never 

Kiss thy blessing from my brow. 
I will trust in thee forever, 

I will to thy wisdom bow. 
Only love me fondly, truly, 

Till the stars shall cease to shine, 
And my every thought shall duly 

Blend in harmony with thine. 



138 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



EXALTATION. 

A BEAUTIFUL floweret drooped one day, 
Lonely, disheartened she bowed her head; 
And these were the words she seemed to say, 
" O Flora, I would that I were dead! " 

The goddess heard her complaining voice, 
And stooped to cheer her with looks of love. 

"O sorrowing creature, rejoice! rejoice! 
The angels are weaving thy fate above, 



With ravelled threads from the rainbow's sash, 
And golden floss from the rising sun; 

Then cherish no more a wish so rash, 
For night is ended and day begun. 

Already affection's glances bright 

Part the branches that o'er thee swing; 

She will transplant thee where love and light 
Repose, and the birds of gladness sing. 

The only return I ask of thee, 

When troops of blessings and joys surround 
Thy life, is a pleasant smile for me, 

And fragrant kisses for all around. " 






MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 139 

The flower revived, and her heart grew strong, 
And brighter her colors seemed to glow; 

And the gardener said, " Of a place among 
My choicest pets she is worthy now." 

So he made her a bed in a rich parterre, 

Under the arch of a sheltering vine, 
Where Beauty's adorers oft repair 

To wonder and worship at her shrine. 

No more the floweret her lot bewails, 

But lifts her forehead to greet the sun, 
And blithely sings to the passing gales, 

"Lo! joy has finished what pain begun." 



BE GLAD. 

BE glad, O heart! O innocent young heart! 
Thou art the ward of Heaven; thy nurse is Love; 
Thy tutors, Wisdom and Experience. 
They will attend thee in the way of life 
Which stretches far beyond thy vision's range. 

Uneven is the path thou must pursue; 
It leads through tranquil valleys, verdurous, 
Teeming with life and beauty; over heights 
Majestic which converse alone with God 
By signs incomprehensible to man. 



140 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Gather the gems that sparkle by the way, 

The flowers that smile to greet thee. Garner thou, 

Within the spacious treasury of thought, 

All that is worthy for thy future use 

And pleasure in the higher life to come. 



TRANSFIGURED. 

SHE faded, faded while the other flowers 
That graced our garden were in fullest bloom. 
We said, " Love, art thou searching for the tomb 
So soon? Why! thou hast numbered fewer hours 
In thy sweet life than any of thy kin. 
What shall we do thy longer stay to win ? " 

She clasped her lily hands upon her breast, 
And answered, smiling, " I have only grown 
Weary a little sooner. O mine own! 

Detain me not, I'm going home to rest. 

Till you rejoin me it shall be my care 

That home for your reception to prepare. 

Affection will advise me what to choose, 

That nothing may be wanting that could add 
To your enjoyment. I am truly glad 

To feel that I again may be of use." 

She ceased, and while her words yet held our thought, 

Her gentle spirit into Heaven was caught. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 141 



AMBITION. 

ONWARD, ever onward, 
While endures my breath; 
Tell me not of sickness, 
Tell me not of death. 
Would you have me falter 

Ere my crown is won ? 
Leave to earth unfinished 
The work I have begun ? 

Lion-eyed Ambition, 

Throned within my soul, 
Points with steady finger 

To the nearing goal; 
To the time when o'er me 

Fame's proud flag shall wave; 
What care I if only 

It canopy my grave. 

Seek not to dissuade me; 

Trust me, 'twould be vain; 
I'm inured to sorrow, 

Hardened unto pain. 
I must, I will press onward. 

While endures my breath, 
At the risk of sickness, 

At the risk of death. 



142 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



BE PATIENT, O MY SOUL. 

BE patient, patient, O my soul! 
Beat not so wildly 'gainst the bars; 
Thy prison gates will ope ere long, 
And thou shalt, on the wings of song, 
Triumphant join the radiant stars. 

The radiant stars that lovingly 

Do all they can to give thee light, 
When they, from calm, exalted spheres, 
Behold the doubts, the prayers, the tears 
Thou scatterest to the winds of night. 

Look round on Nature. Everywhere 

Mayst thou the law progressive trace. 
The young oak, struggling through the sod, 
Will sometime spread its branches broad, 
A thing of beauty, strength and grace. 

The tiny seed, so small that eye 

Can scarce discern it, will expand 
Ere long and shed upon the air 
Such fragrance as the angels bear 
To loved ones in the Summer land. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 143 

The naked birdling in the nest, 

Whose unfledged wings so useless seem, 

Will, aided by the eternal law, 

Soar upward till it feels the glow 

That warms the minstrel's tuneful theme. 

Then be thou patient, O my soul! 

A little while and thou shalt rise, 
Assisted by Faith's tireless arm, 
To where no earthly ills can harm, 

Beyond the reach of doubts and sighs. 



LOVE AND HOME. 

OLOVE, how beautiful art thou! 
How good, how kind; 
Bet ore thee men and angels bow 
With joy refined. 

And Home, so great thine influence is, 

So grand, so pure, 
Men count it oft their highest bliss 

To thee secure. 

All tender souls this truth believe, 

That lonely roam, 
The sweetest words that mortals breathe 

Are Love and Home. 



144 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



SUPERSTITION. 



ENSHROUDED in her mantle, lo, behold! 
The treacherous queen, the evil sorceress, 
Surrounded by her slaves of abject mind, 
Whose hearts she feeds upon, whose tears she drinks 
The while they bow in worship at her feet. 

She blinds the eyes of all who look on her; 
Their ears she deafens to the voice of Truth, 
Who, clad in shining garments stands apart 
And calls to every one, " Come, come with me, 
And seek the regions where Contentment dwells." 

But Superstition, with her fearful threats 

Of future horrors, blasts their germs of thought 

That else might bud and blossom into great 

And glorious deeds; and they no more aspire 

To leave the boundaries she has marked for them. 

But now her tyranny is on the wane, 

For God is raising up a multitude 

Of heroes armed with Inspiration's sword, 

Who will attack her strongholds and set free 

Her terror-stricken captives from their chains. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 14' 

Earth now is shaken by a higher power 

Than that of Superstition. Intellect 

Advances, bearing firmly in her hand 

The banner of Christ, to which men will be drawn 

Until their separate beings blend in one. 



SAY, LITTLE BIRD. 

SAY, little bird, with glinting eye, 
Do you not know some spot — 
Some nook beneath the gracious sky 

Where Sorrow's tears fall not ? 
Some refuge quite unknown to pain, 
Where Hope's crushed flowers may bloom again ? 

O little bird, with glinting eye, 

If such a place you know, 
Haste, guide me thither; I would fly 

To find surcease of woe, 
Lest my o'erburdened heart should break, 
And life her tenement forsake. 

O little bird, with glinting eye, 

Thou'rt silent, and I feel 
That naught beneath the bending sky 

Can answer my appeal; 
But only He who reigns above 
Can heal me with His balm of love. 



I46 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



WITHIN THE SHADOW. 

I HEARD them say they were going home, 
The children who passed me in the street, 
As they hastened along with merry song, 
And glistening eyes, and dancing feet. 

I hear them say they were going home, 

And I followed them softly that I might see 

If, indeed, their home was a part of heaven 

Where the sun, and the stars, and the angels be. 

I saw them pass through the stately porch 
Of a mansion that seemed a blaze of light, 

And I caught a glimpse of such lovely forms 
Arrayed in garments of spotless white. 

Green leaves and flowers adorned their hair; 

And their dresses rippled and shimmered so 
That they made me think of the foamy sea, 

And the sparkle I'd seen on a bank of snow. 

A fragrance was wafted in my face 

By the closing door; an odor sweet 
Like that I've breathed in the month of June 

From the flowers for sale in the open street. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 147 

I turned about and went my way 

To my own poor hovel — ray stopping place, 

I name it — I cannot call it home, 

So comfortless, bare, and devoid of grace. 

I wonder, sometimes, when I'm sitting there 

Alone, or among my wretched mates, 
What we've done that Fortune, with angry frown, 

Should keep us outside her lofty gates. 

And what they have done whom she welcomes in 
To her gardens of beauty, and joy and ease. 

Ah! my heart grows hard when I ponder thus, 
And its tenderest feelings chill and freeze. 



WHEN? 

WE WATCH for it, we pray for it, that long surcease 
of sorrow — 
That bright eternity of bliss — best theme of poesy, 
That flies from contact with to-day, but glorifi es to-morrow 
That shuns the now, but wreathes with flowers the mysti- 
cal To Be. 

We dream of it, we long for it, the beautiful day-dawning, 

The prophesied millenium that on the future waits, 
When there shall be an end to pain, an end to tears and 
moaning; 
When Truth shall lead Perfection down through heaven's 
blessed gates. 



I48 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



EVE. 

EVE, it is said, was shaped by God's own hand, 
A masterpiece of perfect womanhood, 
The model mother of the human race. 
Behold her as she stands among the flowers 
Of Eden, in the springtime of her youth, 
The sky's soft azure in her tender eyes, 
The morning's freshness on her innocent brow, 
The tints of opening roses on her cheeks, 
The stains of crushed carnations on her lips, 
The fragrance of May violets in her breath, 
Her form in lightness, suppleness, and grace, 
Unrivalled by the aerial gazelle. 



THE RESPONSE. 

* ' T \ TOM AN, what wishest thou ? " an angel asked, 
V V When summoned to a midnight couch by 
prayer. 
She answered, weeping, "I am overtasked; 
The burden of my cross is hard to bear; 
Canst thou not lighten it ?" 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I49 

" What is thy cross ? " 
1 A lonely heart; a life unwarmed by love. 
Misunderstand me not. I mourn no loss, 
But something yet ungained that fain I'd prove — 
A pure emotion such as seraphs feel 
In quiet hours of bliss." 

The angel smiled, 
And then, responding to her fond appeal, 
He laid upon her breast a new-born child. 



TIME'S PROGRESS. 

TIME moves on with steady tread, and above his hoary 
head 
Wing the hours, life's seed germs sifting through the sieves 

of joy and pain, 
And the dropping of the moments sounds like rain 
As it patters, patters, patters on the steamy window pane. 

Spectre-like time passes on, ever coming, ever gone; 
Never turning back or pausing at the call of love or hate, 
And the tracks he ^aves behind him name we — fate! 
And the goal to which he points is our Creator increate. 



150 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



THE ANGEL'S ADVENT. 

AN angel from the upper world, 
With soul so pure, and face so fair, 
Once sought the temple of my heart, 
In mourning draped by pain and care. 

She entered, and with wondering eyes 
Surveyed the unattractive place, 

Then swift her fairy fingers flew 
Till of its gloom was left no trace. 

She tore the sable hangings down, 
She let the radiant sunshine in, 

And placed Joy's smiling image where 
The mournful shape of Woe had been. 

She wreathed the walls with lovely flowers, 
Of fragrance exquisite and rare, 

And summoned Nature's minstrel birds 
To hold their morning concerts there. 

She so adorned this heart of mine, 
That beauteous messenger of God, 

And so enjoyed her work that soon 
She chose it for her own abode. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 15 I 

O may her presence never fail 

To bless it, nor her labors cease, 
This angel from the upper world, 

Whose soul is love, whose name is Peace. 



EVENING VISIONS. 

IN THE tender hours of evening, 
When the cares of day are o'er, 
Comes sweet memory, revealing 

To our thoughts her scenes of yore. 
And we gaze on them with pleasure, 

Sometimes intermixed with pain, 
While our heart-beats time the measure 
Of some old, familiar strain. 

In the changing views before us 

Youth and Hope together climb, 
Singing Joy's exultant chorus, 

The unequal heights of Time. 
While below is childhood, playing 

With the butterflies and flowers; 
Innocence, her steps delaying, 

Guards him through life's sunny hours. 

Soul entranced by memory's vision 

Linger we o'er life's review, 
Half forgetful of our mission 

In the future grand and new. 



152 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Coming with the twilight shadows 
They attend our midnight dreams, 

Only flying when the meadows 

Smiling greet the sun's first beams. 



VANISHED DREAMS. 

"P\0 you mind how we revelled with joy, Sister Bell, 

\^J In the beautiful days of our youth, 
When we lived in the vine-covered cot in the dell 

And worshipped the goddess of Truth ? 
We fancied, for ignorance ruled in our minds, 

So innocent, too, as they were, 
That all habitations held richly enshrined 

The goddess' image so fair." 

" Ah well, Brother Fred, we've grown wiser, you know, 

The days of our childhood are o'er; 
Their dreams are all vanished as vanished the snow 

That dotted this sand-buried shore. 
We've learned to conform to the world as it is, 

So fickle, so vain and so cold; 
And we strive not to take its exactions amiss 

Though they rob our young hearts of their gold." 

" Do you mind how we reared in our thoughts, Sister Bell, 

A castle of workmanship rare, 
Where the angels of wisdom and virtue might dwell 

And the weary find refuge from care ? 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 153 

How it vanished, and when, I can barely recall, 

But I think in some time-serving scheme 
I bartered it, carelessly bartered it all 

For something more vain than a dream." 

"Ah, well, Brother Fred, sigh no more for the past; 

Look forward, new strength let us gain, 
And build in the future a structure more vast 

That heaven itself shall contain. 
Experience has brought an abundant supply 

Of materials, lasting and strong, 
And our edifice, linking the earth and the sky, 

Shall to God and to Nature belong." 



THE SUNBEAM. 

O SUNBEAM, floating pure and fair, 
Say, dost thou bring us blessings down 
From the free realms of the upper air, 
That lie above this world of care, 
Whose parentage we own ? 

Yes, yes, I leave my gorgeous throne, 

My home in the great sun's burning heart, 
To dress the sky in the robes of dawn, 
To circle the earth with a silver zone, 
And to cheer the human heart." 



154 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



TO A CHILD. 

CHILD, with eyes so full of ardor, 
Gazing on yon azure field, 
What sublime, majestic visions 

Are unto thy soul revealed. 
Seest thou the march of ages 

O'er the rugged steeps of Time, 
To whose highest, cloud-hung summit 
Man's swift aspirations climb? 

Are thine eyes the record reading 

Of the mighty vanished Past ? 
Learning how by zealous labor 

She her untold wealth amassed. 
Or art thou the Present scanning 

While she weaves her threads of gold 
Into shining garments destined 

Life's true heroes to enfold ? 

Or perchance thy spirit vision 

Hath been quickened to discern, 
Through the mist-enveloped distance, 

Her for whose approach we yearn; 
Knowing that she cometh laden 

With our Father's gifts of love, 
All by Wisdom's hand selected 

From His treasury above. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 155 

If, indeed, the Future smileth, 

Favored child, upon thee now, 
Tell her how with expectation 

We are waiting here below; 
Waiting in the lowly valleys 

For her coming, who shall bring 
That blest era whose perfections 

Bards prophetic love to sing. 



THE THREAD OF LIFE. 

MY thread of live grows finer 
As I wind it day by day, 
'Twas once a cord, both stout and strong 
And while I wound it seemed so long, 
Nay, endless to my youthful thought, 
Impatient and untaught. 

My thread of life grows weaker, 
And I tremble lest it break 
Ere my allotted task is done, 
Ere quiet evening has begun 
Her reign, ere fades the sunset glow 
From yonder banks of snow. 



156 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



PEACE, BE STILL. 

RESTLESS souls your lot bemoaning, 
Peace, be still; 
You can make this earth an eden 
If you will. 

All you need is love and patience 

For the work; 
Rouse ye! lo, the dawn is peering 

Through the murk. 

Soon the sun of Truth will brighten 

All the sky; 
Then no longer in the darkness 

May you lie. 

When he has dispersed the shadows 

Hovering near, 
Then the beauties of life's landscape 

Will appear. 

Ne'er presume God's earnest workmen 

To deride; 
If you cannot join their labors 

Stand aside. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 157 

Stand aside, and with your love-words 

Cheer them on; 
Tell them He has given talents 

To each one. 

Precious gifts, that wisely planted 

In the field, 
Strengthening food to craving natures 

Soon may yield. 

On your hearts imprint this lesson, 

Wisdom rife, 
Love and Labor are the mainsprings 

Of all life. 



RETURN OF GLADNESS. 

WEARY heart, cast off thy sadness, 
Drag no more the chains of care, 
Hither comes the angel Gladness, 
Haste, prepare, 

Thy best chamber for her rest; 
She will be thy constant guest. 

Lo! the dark wings of night's shadows 

All are spread for distant flight, 
Troops of sunbeams fleck the meadows 
Green with light, 

While the rainbow-mantled hours 
Tend with joy life's opening flowers. 



158 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



BE MERCIFUL. 

SHOULD thy brother or thy sister 
In their weakness go astray, 
Do not close thy door upon them 

Bidding them be gone for aye; 
Win them back by calm persuasion, 
In an earnest, friendly way. 

Oft the first step downward tending 

Is repented bitterly, 
And the humbled soul would gladly 

Back unto its refuge flee. 
Let not then thy coldness plunge it 

Deeper in iniquity. 

Men and women, wearing proudly 
Virtue's emblem, pause, I pray, 

And reflect upon your duties, 

Lest, when comes a reckoning day, 

He may charge you with the ruin 
Of some wretched cast-away. 

In the eyes of God, believe me, 

Love diffusing Charity, 
Is the noblest of all virtues; 

Bounteous his reward will be 
Who its blessed seed shall scatter 

Freely o'er humanity. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 159 



THE PLEA OF ADVERSITY. 

YE foolish ones, who fear and hate me so, 
And pray for my destruction, day by day, 
Pause and reflect upon your ignorance 
Of my high mission. They who know me best 
Confess how much of patience, strength of mind, 
Wisdom and charity they have received 
From my unstinting hand. Do ye not know 
That ere the barren soil can fruits produce, 
Nutritious and refined in quality, 
The sharp-edged plough-share must be driven deep 
Beneath its surface, tearing into shreds 
The matted roots of weeds that long have kept 
All nobler vegetation from the field? 
I am God's plough-share; through the human mind 
I quickly glide, upturning in my course 
The roots of sin and folly, weeds most vile. 
Repentance is the harrow following me, 
And after it comes Virtue, scattering 
Her precious seed, the germs of all that seem 
To us most good, most pure, most beautiful. 
How gladdening is the sunshine to your sight! 
How grateful to your bodies is its warmth! 
But who among earth's children would desire 
Its presence always? Weary of the glare, 



l6o MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Would they not long for evening's quiet shades 
To lull their o'er-wrought energies to rest? 
You, looking downward, say despondingly, 
How much of beauty does the night conceal! 
I, looking upward, cry exultantly, 
How much of beauty does the night reveal! 
For then are visible those shining spheres, 
Those wondrous atoms in the body of God, 
That witness bear to His immensity. 
So when my gloom o'erspreads the human soul 
Its glowing traits of goodness, beauty, grace, 
Appear as never they appeared before 
When 'twas submerged beneath the flood of light 
Poured from Prosperity's effulgent sun. 
O, when I come receive me patiently, 
And entertain me kindly while I stay, 
For I am sent a temple to prepare 
Within your hearts for Deity's own use; 
There may you carry your complaints, and there 
Receive His counsel and encouragement 
When cares perplex or dangers terrify, 
Till stronger grown, and nobler, and more wise, 
And clear of vision, you shall cry aloud, 
" Blessed be Adversity, stern monitor, 
Whose presence purifies and fits mankind 
For the enjoyment of a higher bliss 
Than earth has ever known — the bliss of Heaven. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 161 



FAME. 

LET him look to his armor well 
Who would wrest from the world a name, 
Who would hear in his praise the clanging bell 
That swings in the turret of Fame, 
In the tower of the monarch Fame. 

Let him laugh at the word — despair; 
Let him nothing know of fear, 

Who would claim in the garden of memory 
A place for his funeral bier, 
Where the leaves nor fade nor sear. 

From his vigils and his toil 

He must ne'er presume to rest, 
For Scorn has a thousand shafts to hurl 

At the undefended breast, 

At the young, unguarded breast. 

Alas! 'Tis a thankless task, 

And oft when the prize is gained, 
The heavy crown, with its rustling leaves, 

Oppresses the aching brain, 

The weary, toil-worn brain. 



162 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



GREETING TO SORROW. 

SORROW, old friend, sit down, sit down; 
Thy well-known knock so oft I hear 
That I am careless of thy frown, 

And no more fear, 
As once I did, thy haggard eyes, 
Nor tremble at thy gusty sighs. 

No more I run away from thee 
And cover up my frightened head, 

For thus I reason, quietly; 
When I am dead 

What will it matter whether thou 

Or Joy has wreathed this mortal brow. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 63 



THE ROSE. 

MY spirit eyes beheld 
Life's crimson current pour 
From the poor crushed heart of a queenly rose 
That grew by my cottage door. 

The hand that beat it down, 

And scattered its fragrant leaves, 
Went forth to the fields at a later day 

To garner the golden sheaves. 

But the blood of the murdered rose 

Had bereft it of all power, 
And it shook in the breath of the passing breeze 

And withered, hour by hour. 

I turned to view again 

The stem where the rose had been; 
And lo! another more beautiful 

Than ever mine eyes had seen. 

I kissed its sweet, sweet lips, 

And drank its odorous breath, 
And thanked the Creator for the life 

So rare evolved from death. 



164 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

THE THUNDER STORM. 

EXTRACT FROM A LOST POEM. 

EVE was approaching and I saw 
A storm hung on her shadowy trail. 
Around me all was still with fear, 
But, in the distance, I could hear 
The coming tempest's hideous wail 

I sought for shelter; but before 

The mansion's entrance I could gain, 
The mighty storm, by furies hurled, 
Descended on the shuddering world 
In one o'erwhelming flood of rain. 

A thousand thunders, blent in one, 

Crashed on the awful lightning's blaze, 
That in bewildering splendor streamed 
And, followed by thick darkness, seemed 
The ending of created days. 

The angels of the night were there, 

With baleful light their wild eyes shone; 
And I could see their daggers glare 
Above, around me, everywhere, 
While I stood trembling and alone. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 165 

At last from out the troubled heavens, 

That opened for its egress, came 
A wondrous glory; not the sun, 
Throned on the clear blue arch of noon, 

Could match that moving sea of flame. 

'Twas but a moment, yet I saw 

The trees writhe in its radiant arms, 
That held them in a close embrace, 
Then left them blackened, shorn of grace, 
And riven of their leafy charms. 

'Twas but a moment, for I swooned 

When the strange glory o'er me passed; 

Prone on the cold, rain-soddened clay, 

Bereft of consciousness I lay, 

Dead to the present and the past. 



l66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



EXCELSIOR." 



" And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star- 
Excelsior! " 



" TJ I AWATHA," harp teolian, 

11 Ever fitful is thy music, 

Now exultant, now desponding; 

Rhythem quaint, unique and rhymeless, 
"Youth and age " alike enjoy thee. 

"Wayside Inn," thou old time relic, 
Ark of refuge for the pilgrim 
During flood, and storm, and darkness. 
Sage and simpleton, together 
Welcome find, and share the comfort 
Of thy hospital fireside 
Round which Mirth, and Wit, and Wisdunv 
Through the Summer, and the Winter, 
Hive their store for others' pleasure. 

"Life's pure Psalm," and "Angel Footsteps.' 
"Occupation of Orion." 
" Nuremburg. " Beleaguered City." 
Gentle, true "Evangeline." 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 167 

Flower-de-Luce." "Saint Filomena." 
Epemetheus." " Tegner's Drapa." 
Ladder, steep, of St. Augustine." 
Light of Stars." " The Village Blacksmith." 
Old companions all, low murmuring 
Words of cheer, and hope, and comfort. 



MORNING. 

O LOVELY morning, fresh and new 
Thou risest from thy bath of dew, 
The sunshine on thy face, the love 
Of God within thy glowing heart; 

Each songster of the woodland grove 
Proclaims how beautiful thou art. 

Thou bringest joy, thou bringest health, 
Thou scatterest wisdom's golden wealth, 

That all mankind may plenty find 
In future time their wants to sate. 

"Wake, slumberer, wake! enrich thy mind," 
Thou urgest, " ere it be too late." 

O morning bright, the grateful East 
Hath well partaken at thy feast; 

And now life's myriads at the West 
Await thy coming with desire 

Most fervent. Go, thou truly blest, 
Their hands employ, their hearts inspire. 



l68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Hope walks with thee, and Faith delights 
To greet thee from her sunny heights 

As swiftly glide thy busy feet 
Among the various homes of men, 

Who lose thee unconcerned, O sweet! 
Knowing thou wilt return again. 

Knowing thou wilt return. The faith 
That grandly triumphs over death 

And absence and the ills of time 
Assures us of thy constancy, 

Thou hand-maid of the Power benign 
Whose soul enwraps eternitv. 



KNOWLEDGE. 

WHO is it with the grandly towering form, 
The stately head, the brow magnificent, 
The calm reposeful eyes, the noble mien, 
The limbs indicative of strength and grace ? 

Knowledge. Who else could be so self-contained, 
So undisturbed among the whirl of change, 
The crash of systems, when Destruction drives 
His flaming chariot through the Universe. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 169 



THE VOYAGE. 

THE waves were rough, the night was dark 
When ventured forth a tiny barque 
Into the open sea of life; 
How could it live amid such strife! 
'Twas driven onward by the wind, 
That like a fury raged behind; 
The billows, threatening, o'er it hung; 
The lightening licked, with fiery tongue, 
Its quivering form; the thunders hurled 
The fragments of a ruined world 
Along its pathway. What weird charm 
Preserved the little one from harm? 

Upon the prow sat angels three — 
Sweet Patience, Faith, and Purity, 
Who held by cords invisible 
To that fair Heaven they knew so well. 
Down these the power of Deity 
Descended to those angels three, 
And Discord and his minions rude 
Were soon to harmlessness subdued. 
The tiny barque is urged no more 
By tempest fiends the rough surge o'er; 
From mortal dread she finds release, 
She's made the sheltering port of Peace. 



170 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



THE GRAND LABORATORY 

A LABORATORY is the universe, 
Where toil in secret the Life Principles 
Directed by the Master Chemist — God. 
By wondrous skill, through curious processes, 
Matter therein to spirit is resolved; 
Each day, each hour, each moment witnesses 
Some grand transfiguration. Upward tend 
The sublimated particles, set free 
From gross associations, still to be 
Repurified in yet more ardent fires, 
Until their very essence is obtained, 
From which may be distilled a matchless wine, 
A nectar grateful to the Deity. 
But let us not, while with transported eyes 
We view this miracle of change, forget 
That even the refuse has good service done, 
And in the future, uses new will find; 
It has its value, else 'twould not exist; 
Who aught despises, scorns unwittingly 
The great Creator's wisdom. Let us, t 1 -n, 
Rest satisfied that all has been designea 
Just as it is for universal good. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 171 



THE DEFIANCE. 

I FLING the iron gauntlet down, 
O Fate, I fling it at thy feet, 
Henceforth, come triumph or defeat, 
I spurn thy smile, I scorn thy frown. 

My soul is royal; know, stern Fate, 

Thou canst not crush it 'neath thy heel; 
The heir of Liberty, 'twill kneel 

No more to thee in abject state. 

It feels how near it is to Him, 
The Spirit of the Universe, 
And Love, its gentle mother-nurse, 

Whose thoughts are one outpouring hymn 

Of prayer and praise and gratitude. 
O Fate with such a friend as this, 
Think you I'll want for peace or bliss, 

Though hurt by thee in vengeful mood? 



I72 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



THE VIOLET. 

A VIOLET, sleeping, dreamed of Spring, 
Her sunny skies and balmy air, 
Her butterflies that lightly swing 

On scented flower and blossom rare. 

Her singing birds that cheer the hours 

With music as they gaily pass; 
Her dew drops and her silvery showers 

That bring new vigor to the grass. 

The violet woke, and lo! the earth 
Was folded in a shroud of snow, 

And scarce the lovely thing had birth 
Ere death appeared and laid her low. 

The snow dissolved, the sun smiled down, 
And other violets waked to bliss. 

But she, who graced Spring's earliest crown, 
Felt nevermore the sunbeam's kiss. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



173 



SHINE FORTH, O SUN. 

SHINE forth, O sun divine! 
Drive from the world its gloom; 
Search every nook of the human mind, 
And, where we now but vile weeds find, 
Make odorous lilies bloom. 

Shine forth, O sun divine! 

Too long has darkness worn 
The crown. O haste, thou power sublime, 
And usher in the bride of Time — 

The fair millenial morn. 

Shine forth, O sun divine! 

O glorious orb of Truth! 
Till earth shall be what God designed, 
And Age shall on his forehead bind 

The amaranth buds of Youth. 



174 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



THE NEW ARMAMENT. 

COME, behold, ye brave defenders 
Of the Union, great and grand, 
Where the daughters of the Nation 

In a solid phalanx stand; 
All in shining armor dressed, 

Love and zeal inspire each breast. 

All along their lines the signals, 

Iridescent, flash and glow, 
Lighting up the field of conflict, 

Showing still where lurks the foe. 
Sin, though wearing Virtue's guise, 

May not scape their searching eyes. 

Never will they shrink or falter 
In this struggle for the right; 

Justice, raising high her standard, 
Leads and cheers them in the fight. 

'Gainst corruption they contend, 
Sure of victory in the end. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 175 



FORWARD! 

ONWARD, with purpose high, 
Thinkers and workers; 
Storm all the forts of sin, 
None may be shirkers. 
Bring forth your banners now, 

From their obscurity, 
Stamped with the mottoes fair — 
Charity! purity! 

Lo! the world struggles on 

Toward the morrow, 
Lashed with the whip of crime, 

Tortured by sorrow. 
What is her need, you ask? 

Friends, of a surety, 
Purity! charity! 

Charity! purity! 

Vainly the dogs of hell, 

Bark in your pathway; 
Time goes, with keen-edged scythe, 

Mowing a swath-way 
Through their infernal realms, 

Into futurity, 
For love's evangelists — 

Charity! purity! 



I76 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Onward then, faithful hearts, 

Steadily, boldly; 
What though the time-servers 

Turn from you coldly. 
Still grasp the shield of right, 

'Tis your security; 
Still let your watchword be — 

Charity! purity! 



SONG OF THE PINES. 

LISTEN to the warning uttered 
By the stately pines: 
" Winter's coming, Winter's coming, 
Know ye not the signs? 

" All our sisters of the forest, 
Fearful of his frowns, 
In mute homage cast before him 
Their umbrageous crowns. 

" We alone, with pride unhumbled, 
Still defy his power; 
Never will we play the craven, 
Ne'er our banners lower. 

" Tender birdlings, shyly nestling 
In our bosoms, find 
Peaceful shelter from the rainstorms 
And the raging wind. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I 77 

" Once a friend, a friend for ever, 
Shall our motto be; 
Make it yours, O fickle children, 
Of humanity! 

" Through the Summer and the Winter 
We are still the same, 
Making always, 'mid time's changes, 
Constancy our aim. 

" True unto ourselves and others, 
Though it rains or shines, 
You may learn a useful lesson 
Even from the pines." 



MAKE BEAUTIFUL YOUR SOUL- 
GARDENS. 

WORK in your soul-gardens, make of them edens 
Where God's pure angels with pleasure may rove; 
Fill them with treasures from Nature's abundance, 
Sunshine, and roses, and music, and love. 
Flowerets of every dye, 
Let them make glad the eye, 
While their rich fragrance the atmosphere fills. 
Let the bright birds of song, 
Flitting the groves among, 
Spell-bind the ear with their exquisite trills. 



178 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Let Aspiration's grand fountains, upspringing, 
Toss their light spray in the face of the sky; 
Let meek Humility's rivulets warble 
Unto their pebbles the peace lullaby. 

And, when your work is done, 

Call unto every one, 
" Friend, if thou wilt, to my garden repair. 

Not for my use alone 

Do I its treasures own, 
Welcome are all in its fulness to share." 



O SON OF TOIL AND HONESTY. 

OSON of Toil and Honesty, 
Soul-wed to sweet Simplicity, 
Lament not thou thy lack of wealth; 
Thy blest inheritance is health, 
A kindly heart, a conscience clear, 
A courage ne'er disgraced by fear, 
Tranquility of mind, and power 
To use for good the present hour. 

O son of Toil and Honesty, 

Fair Virtue loves to honor thee. 

She flies from Fashion's flaunting throng, 

To sit thy humble guests among. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I 79 

Where moderate mirth o'errules excess, 



Where Youth and Age with fond caress 
Each other greet, while Peace invites 
All to enjoy her pure delights. 



PENITENT. 

AND so you are repentant, and you crave 
Forgiveness for your weakness and deceit? 
Ah, well! I pardon you beside the grave 

Of those twin sisters, delicate and sweet, 
Dear Faith and Love, who made our home complete 

The while their presence graced it; now, ah woe! 
Their hearts are pulseless, motionless their feet; 
Dead, dead and buried neath the winter's snow. 

Who now shall fill their vacant seats ? who cheer 

The heart so comfortless, so seared with pain ? 
Two gentle voices murmur, " We are here! 

Raise thy sad eyes to Heaven and smile again." 
Even as the rose, bowed 'neath the shock of rain, 

Glows afterward still lovelier through her tears, 
So Charity and Patience seek to train 

The soul's affections in life's later years. 



l8o MISCELLANEOUS POEM?. 



THE PROPHECY. 

O SENSITIVE, sad heart, low sunk in pain, 
As the wrecked vessel in the stormy main, 
Hast thou relinquished Hope, the steadfast buoy? 
Arise and grasp her, she lies near to Joy, 
Whose smiles shall quicken thy now sluggish strength, 
And thou the port of Happiness at length 
Shall reach in safety. Courage then, faint heart, 
Remember what thou wast, and what thou art. 

Remember what thou wast, and what thou art, 

And what thou shalt be. Cheer thee, drooping heart, 

The bow of promise spans the glowing skies 

That bend above thee. Dark despondance flies 

Thy glory-hallowed presence, and, behold! 

Love, pure, eternal love, waits to enfold 

Thy being in its blissful ecstacy. 

O heart, accept, believe this prophecy. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. l8l 



MORNING. 

THE darkness vanishes; the morning comes 
Fresh from her fragrant bath of dew. Her hair, 
Glistening with pearly beads, far westerly 
Its darkening shadow throws, while now the East, 
Flooded with light from her effulgent eyes, 
Awakes to bid her welcome to our shores. 
On bush and tree the birds their matin songs 
Warble in concert, giving Nature's God 
Due praise for their existence. Smiling flowers, 
In beauty's garments clad, declare their joy 
In language only he can understand 
Whose soul is the abode of purity. 
They freight the atmosphere with incense rare; 
They draw sweet nectar from the founts within 
Their tender beings, to refresh the minds 
Of any weary and despondent grown, 
Because o'erburdened with the cares of time. 
So lovely, so attractive is the scene, 
That Innocence and Harmony descend 
From the celestial groves to walk the earth, 
And hold communion with the sons of men 



182 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



THE SILENT ROCK. 

TOWERING rock, moss-grown and hoary, 
Darkening the creeping waters, 
Over which, in gloomy silence, 
You have leaned in by-gone ages 
Even as you lean at present. 

You could tell us many a story 

Of the first weird revelation 

When the earth with throes and struggles, 

Ofttimes fearful and prodigious, 

Strove to free herself from chaos. 

Time's mute sentinel, grim-visaged, 
You could lift the sable curtain 
Shutting from our eager vision 
The strange secret of our being, 
The grand mystery of existence. 

You could render far more certain 
Our conjectures of the future 
Would you but reveal the motive 
That induced the past to foster 
All life's wonderful creations. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 183 

But, alas! we cannot move thee; 
Vain are all our fond entreaties, 
Useless all expostulation. 
Constancy herself o'erawed is 
By thy nature hard and steadfast. 

Well, since thou no explanation 
Wilt vouchsafe, we'll leave thy presence; 
Leave thee even as we found thee, 
In the cloak of mystery shrouded, 
Listening to the crooning waters. 



MAKE YOUR REASON FREE. 

FRIEND, how can you, friend, how dare you 
Chain your reason in the gloom? 
Shut it from the light of heaven 

In a lonesome, living tomb ? 
'Tis the noblest gift of nature, 

'Tis the favorite child of God; 
Him you wrong when you abuse it, 
Burden it with error's load. 

Sever all the bonds that bind it, 

Let it soar the stars above; 
Let it learn the truth inspiring, 

God is beauty, God is Love. 



184 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

If you will but grant it freedom, 
Let it Wisdom's path pursue, 

It will bless you in the future 

With acquirements grand and new. 

It will change your mind's poor hovel 

To a palace fit for kings, 
And your thought's disordered garden 

Fill with pure and lovely things. 
It will show you all the riches 

In creation's treasury; 
It will teach your questioning spirit 

What has been and what shall be. 

It will give you wings to lift you 

Over all the loathsome slime 
Left upon life's weedy places 

By the passing waves of time. 
O restrain it then no longer, 

Give your reason liberty 
Truth to seek, for God has said it, 

Truth when found shall set you free. 



Poems of the Affections. 



. MY NELL. 

PRETTY, laughing, blue-eyed Nell 
I have loved her long and well; 
Loved her more than I can tell. 

But whenever I essay 
To declare it, like a fay 
Blushing Nellie flits away. 

She is shy as any bird, 

And her heart with fear is stirred 

At love's lightest whispered word. 

Well, she's young yet; she will grow 

In another year or so 

Life's most charming charm to know. 

Sometime she will wake and find 
That great Wisdom's self designed 
Wedded bliss for human kind. 

Meanwhile, I will hope and pray 
That when comes that wakening day 
She will turn to me and say, 

"You have been so kind and true 
That I nothing else can do 
Than bestow myself on you 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

None so dear my heart has known; 
Take me then, my love, my own, 
I will live for you alone." 



OUR MAY. 

5 r I ^WAS morn when I beheld her first, 
1 The child entrusted to my care; 

I scarce dared kiss her tiny cheek 
She seemed a thing so frail, so fair. 

I hailed her as a priceless gift 

Fresh from the great Creator's hand, 

And watched while oft in dreams she held 
Sweet converse with the angel band. 

We called her May, because she came 
To us in that bright month of flowers, 

And Hope sang at her birth, and Joy 

With garlands crowned the smiling hours. 

Five years, that seemed as many days 
So full of happy cares were they, 

Lengthened the soft, bright, clustering curls, 
The golden ringlets of our May. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 1 89 

A.h, me!' I fear to worship grew 

The all-absorbing love I bore 
My gentle child, whose busy tongue 

Will cheer my lonely heart no more. 

'Twas evening time when last I saw 

Her blue eyes beaming love on me, 
•For, though her form was racked with pain, 

She suffered, oh, so patiently! 

And when the voice from Heaven was heard 

Bidding my treasure haste away, 
She, smiling, fled, my pretty one, 

Murm'ring, " Mamma's own darling May." 



EVENING AND MORNING. 

EVE cometh; 'neath my leaty vine 
I hide me and in secret pine. 

Out through its trellis-work I gaze 
Upon the moon, whose mellow rays 

Seem struggling to impart relief 
To my poor heart beset with grief. 

The nightingale is singing near; 
I'll pour my sorrow in her ear. 



190 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

I know the gentle bird for me 
Will feel love's deepest sympathy, 

Since she has suffered, I am told, 
Most cruelly in days of old. 

My good old nurse, so kind, so true, 
I loved her better than I loved 

My haughty kin, whose hearts I knew, 
Were ne'er to sweet compassion moved. 

They took a certain pride in me 

Because, they said, my face was fair; 

My form was good, and all could see 
I had the true patrician air. 

Perhaps I had; but there, ah, there 
My birthright ended; for you'll find 

These charms, this proud, patrician air 
Were wedded to a plebian mind. 

I loved my nurse's only son, 

And promised to bestow my hand 

Upon him when our race was run 

Through childhood's happy fairy land. 

Young as we were, we seemed to know 
We trespassed on forbidden ground, 

But still Hope's lovely flowers would grow, 
And still we picked them from the mound 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 191 

Time passed, and childhood, with a smile, 
Gave place to more reflective youth; 

We loved more fondly all the while, 
And pledged each other vows of truth. 

Not fully did we realize 

How custom ruled among the proud, 
Till one day, lifting up our eyes, 

We saw the overhanging cloud. 

Wrath's whirlwind came, and all the air 
Was thick with darkness where we stood; 

It hurried him, I know not where, 
But left me here in solitude. 

My dark brown locks are mixed with gray, 
My eyes are dull from shedding tears 

Of sorrow o'er your graves, each day, 
Ye dead but unforgotton years. " 

A rustle near, some whispered words; 
" My love, my constant love, at last 
Thy soul's confession to the birds 
Has. resurrected all the past. 

I've wrested from the hand of Fate 
Both rank and wealth, and at thy feet 

The prizes fling, my own true mate, 
Whom now on level ground I meet." 



I92 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

The nightingale has ceased to sing; 
The lark is warbling to the morn, 
" Rejoice, for mid the flowers of Spring 
A child of happiness is born!" 



THE GLEAM IN THE HOUSE OF AZAH. 

WOEFUL gloom hung darkly brooding over Azah's 
lowly dwelling, 
Since fair Zora, his beloved one, had by death been led 
away, 
In the glory of her bridehood, to the mystic realm of 
Hades, 
And her husband's heart was lonely in the chamber 
where he lay. 

Moaned he thus: " My pearl of beauty, when we first were 
joined together, 
Hand in hand, and heart in heart, methought the tie was 
strong as fate; 
But, alas! like flowing water hast thou slid from my em- 
braces; 
Oh! return; return and cheer again my life so desolate. 

" Zora! Zora!" Is it possible that souls absorbed in heaven 

Can be drawn from their felicity by anguished love on 

earth ? 

Ye who question, wait the answer in the sequel of my story, 

And no longer doubt affection's power, its vastness or its 

worth. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 1 93 

Midnight reigned within his chamber, deeper midnight in 
his bosom, 
And the cry of " Zora! Zora!" seemed to shake the outer 
wall, 
When, oh! wonder, on the ceiling o'er his head appeared a 
gleaming 
Silvery haze, like drifted moonlight, ere had ceased that 
pleading call. 

'Twas her smile, and through its splendor dawned the sem- 
blance of her features, 
While her voice with liquid music filled the portals of his 
ear; 
And like balm upon his spirit fell these words of tender 

meaning. 
" Why invokest thou, my husband, her who cannot choose 
but hear ? 

Hear and heed thy faintest whisper, — nay, thy lightest 
thought compels me, 
For my being flows around thee as the waters round the 
earth; 
Then for my sake be thou patient till thy ripe soul shall 
dissever 
Nature's frame-work that has guarded, clothed, and 
nourished it from birth. 

So, made strong by mortal trials, thou mayest bear me in 
thy bosom 

To the empyrean circle, into bliss all thought above, 
Where, by virtue sublimated to the rarest, purest essence, 

We at last may freely mingle in the sacred fount of Love." 



194 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Now the lovely vision faded, and the voice of murmuring 
music 
Chased no more reluctant silence from the chamber dark 
and lone; 
But in Azah's heart was gladness, for the gleam upon the 
ceiling, 
There transferred, in shining letters stamped the motto, 
We are one. 



THROUGH THE GREEN WOODLANDS. 

THROUGH the green woodlands a carolling maiden, 
Fairer, more fresh than the dawn, 
'Mong the low branches, all dripping with garlands, 
Bounds like a light-footed fawn. 

He who can win her will hold in possession 
Something more precious than wealth; 

For, let me whisper, the name of this maiden, 
This peerless young beauty is — Health. 



POEMS UF THE AFFECTIONS. 195 



THE YOUNG FARMER'S PROPOSAL. 

DEAR Rose, I've neither gold nor pearls 
Nor precious gems to lay before thee; 
Nor have I gift of eloquence 

To shower the dew of flattery o'er thee. 

A vine-wreathed cot, a little farm, 
Is all I own of this world's treasures, 

And yet methinks a palace home 

Could hardly yield me greater pleasures. 

I till the ever fruitful soil, 

A self-imposed and pleasant duty, 

And watch the creatures of my toil 

Grow every day in strength and beauty. 

I have no fountain forced by art 
In jets fantastic, near my dwelling, 

But in its place a singing stream 
Flows on, its waters never failing. 

There throng the moisture loving flowers, 
Where green-leaved willows fence the brink, 

And there in Summer's burning hours 
The thirsty sunbeams stoop to drink. 



196 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

Each fruit, each flower I've heard thee praise 
Waits in my garden, love for thee; 

Come view thy favorite roses there, 
And let their red lips plead for me. 

For I am only nature taught; 

Dear one, I can but say, I love thee; 
Then let these few and simple words 

To tenderest compassion move thee. 

Methinks I see love's own true light 
Flash in those dear blue eyes of thine; 

O turn them on me, let them cheer 

This trembling, doubting heart of mine. 

Bless thee for that confiding look, 
And for thy sweet lips' timid kiss; 

'Twere worth a lifetime but to feel 
One hour of perfect joy like this. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. I97 



AFFECTION. 

ODEAR affection! when you came 
The world, that was so dark before, 
Grew suddenly alight with flame 

Of roseate hue. Ah! ne'er before 
Was seen such splendors in the skies — 
Reflections of thy radiant eyes. 

O dear Affection, Heaven-sent boon, 
How sweetenest thou the cup of life! 

Unmoved as yonder patient moon 
Thou witnessest the cares, the strife, 

The trials of our mortal lot; 

Thou feelest all, but changest not. 



I98 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



ACCEPTED. 

O SWEET, if you knew how I love you! 
If only you knew 
How the heart, that among all life's millions 
Regards but a few — 

Has only a handful of sterling 

Good friends on the earth, 
Bows low in devout adoration 

Beholding your worth. 

Nay! hear me. Go not, I entreat you; 

The door is too near — 
Let me close it. So long have I waited 

To gain your fair ear, 

And pondered how I should address you — 

What eloquent words 
Should ravish your mind like the trilling 

Of musical birds. 

Poor fool that I was! Now the moment 

So longed for has come, 
My soul, overwhelmed by its passion, 

Lies motionless, dumb. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. I99 

My lips in their duty have failed, love; 

They cannot portray 
The feelings long kept in my bosom 

Close locked from the day. 

Those beautiful eyes that upon me 

So tenderly shine, 
Embolden me farther. Nay, shrink not. 

Say, will you be mine ? 

The star of my guidance forever, 

My own faithful wife ? 
Thank God! you are won; and how blissful, 

How precious is life! 



THE HAUNTING EYES. 

AH! how those dark eyes haunt me; how they burn 
Into the very core of my rapt soul; 
Where e'er I go, whichever way I turn, 
Before me like twin planets still they roll. 

Now, like yon monarch of the white-robed days, 
They blaze, they flash; their dazzling radiance 

Bewilders, blinds me. Now their milder rays, 

Like moonbeams, brighten all my thought's expanse. 



200 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

Ah! how those dark eyes haunt me! In my dreams 
They form a part of all things beautiful; 

They stud the landscapes, twinkle in the streams, 
And laugh from every flower I stoop to cull. 

And yet I cannot grasp them. When my hands, 
With passionate eagerness of love, essay 

To do so, through my fingers' circling bands 
They glide, nor leave behind one prisoned ray. 



MABEL. 

HER hands lay idly in her lap, 
Her eyes were fixed on vacancy, 
And this the burden of her thoughts — 
" He never will come back to me." 

that I could those words recall 
That struck my image from his heart, 

That drew this sentence from his lips: 
'Mabel, forever we must forever part! ' 

1 might have had a happy home, 

I might have lived a useful life, 
I might have been, O blissful lot, 

A good man's dear and honored wife. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 201 

fool! in my vain ignorance 

I thought the angels scarce my peers; 
But this proud feeling, long ago, 
Was washed away in stormy tears. 

One summer evening by my side 

He stood, who'd long resisted me 
Though I had spent upon his head 

My every shaft of coquetry, 

And said, in secret, 'Thou shalt bow, 
Thou shalt do homage at my feet; 

1 will subdue that haughty soul 
Which in itself is so complete.' 

We stood in silence for a time, 

Beneath the solemn, starlit sky, 
While now and then a languid breeze, 

Laden with perfume, wandered by. 

" Mabel, I love you! Love you me ? " 

I started at the question plain, 
And threw upon the pale, calm face 

A look of anger and disdain; 

And thus exclaimed, " Presumptuous one 
To think that I, whom but to please 

A host would freely give their lives, 
Could yield assent to words like these; 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

Cold words that speak a colder love — " 

" Hold there," he cried, and grasped my hands, 

"My heart has poured its lava streams 
Too long upon the shifting sands; 

"And now 'twould ask if they retain 
Aught of that lava's warmth below 

Their changeful surface. Love you me ? 
Or tell me yes or tell me no." 

Why was it that my heart repelled 
The latter word, and urged me sore 

To give the former with my hand — 
My all to him for evermore ? 

O slavish heart, I said, shame! shame! 

Wouldst thou surrender to the foe ? 
Where is thy boasted strength ? thy pride ? 

Thou shalt not let thy freedom go. 

That to myself, and this to him, — 
"The sand no latent heat retains; 
The sea has drowned it. Do you still 
Desire the answer that remains 

Unspoken yet? " " No, no;" he said, 

" Those words of yours have chilled my heart 

To ice already. Say no more. 
Mabel, forever we must part." 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 203 

He turned away, and never since 

That hour have I beheld his face. 
The sun comes up, the sun goes down, 

While like a ghost I haunt this place. 

Regret prays ever on my frame. 

O bitter lot! O woeful fate! 
To smart 'neath your enduring sting, 

Ye cruel words, too late — too late. 



THE FORGET-ME-NOT. 

OH the beautiful, the blue, 
Tender, true forget-me-not! 
I remember where it grew, 
Years ago, in one sweet spot, 

Close beside a bubbling spring, 

'Neath an oak tree's sheltering boughs, 

Where the bright birds came to sing, 
And exchange love's ardent vows. 

There I found the tiny flowers, 
And I plucked them for her hair, 

Who, of all in Beauty's bowers, 
Seemed to me most sweet and fair. 



204 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

" Love," I whispered, " I would fain 
Plant their meaning in thy thought, 
So that, till we meet again, 

Thou wouldst sure forget me not." 

And she, blushing, answered, " Dear, 

In the garden of my heart 
They shall blossom, year by year, 

For our solace when apart. 

I will tend them with such care 
That, what e'er may be our lot, 

You shall find no flower so fair 
As the sweet forget-me-not." 

I am old, for, since that time, 

Fifty years have fleeted by; 
Youth's bright hours and manhood's prime 

Far behind my footsteps lie. 

Still my sainted love, I feel, 

Visits oft my lonely cot, 
Heedful of my fond appeal, — 

Angel wife, forget me not! 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 205 



THE FAREWELL. 

ROSE, dear Rose, farewell, farewell! 
Fair and fragrant as thou art, 
I no more may drink thy breath. 
Thou the fatal word hast spoken 
That life's witching spell hath broken; 
Love goes weeping to his death, 
For, henceforth, we two, apart, 
Must like careless strangers dwell. 

O to see another wear 

On his breast the flower I love! 

How can I endure the thought! 

Only one assurance given 

Can make whole affection riven; 

'Tis that love his soul hath taught 

Thee to value far above 

All on earth most good and rare. 



206 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



THE VILLAGE BELLE. 

SHE stands knee deep in the scented clover, 
Bright-eyed Kitty, the village belle; 
While lightly vaulting the green hedge over 
Comes Harry, his tale of love to tell. 

O sweet as the blossoms around her lifting 
Their blushing faces to greet the sun, 

Is the maiden, watching the white clouds drifting 
O'er heaven's blue ocean, one by one. 

Some whispered words; two dark eyes pleading 

With love's seductive eloquence; 
A brown hand's pressure, a kiss, succeeding 

The answer ending the sore suspense. 

Their feet on earth but their hearts in heaven 

The happy lovers together walk; 
All doubts and fears from their minds are driven 

While of the future they gaily talk. 

O dear enchantment, forever brighten 
Their lives, nor ever thy spell remove, 

Their joys enhance, their labors lighten, 
Thou crown of blessings, immortal love. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 207 



THE PARTING. 

THE garden gate was reached. I turned, 
For then my fainting spirit yearned 
To be assured if silently 
Her tender eyes were following me. 

joy! the chamber window gave 
The comfort that my soul did crave, 
For it revealed a vision bright, 

My life's companion and delight. 

She smiled a softened, sorrowing smile, 
To cheer my going forth, the while. 

1 knew her breast was filled with care, 
And woe beyond her strength to bear. 

My love, wherever I may be, 
In memory's glass thy form I'll see, 
Just as I left thee in that hour, 
Framed in the casement of thy bower. 



208 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



THE WIFE TO HER HUSBAND. 

I THINK of thee, love, when lightfooted morning 
Awakens with pure kiss the dreaming world; 
When from earth's dewy brow the mists are rising, 

And night's dark banner for awhile is furled; 
When the fair morning star, grown pale with watching, 

Yet lingers, her unrivalled lord to see, 
Before life's drowsy host has roused to motion, 
Or jarring tumult reigns, I think of thee, 

I think of thee, when in his height of glory 

The burning sun on earth benignant shines, 
While from her bosom spring, in careless beauty, 

Flowers, shrubs and plants, all colors and all kinds; 
When frightened shadows creep in nooks and corners, 

Fain from the sun-god's searching gaze to flee; 
When leaf-hid warblers, with their tremulous music, 

Enchant the listening ear, I thmk of tnee. 

I think of thee, when silent eve advancing 

In rich bright colors paints the quiet sky; 
When pearl-white ships and ruby-tinted islands 

Becalmed upon a golden ocean lie. 
And when the stars take their accustomed places 

In groups or singly as their fate may be, 
They are to me like old familiar faces, 

And while I gaze on them, I think of thee. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 209 

I think of thee, oh, dearest, never wholly 

Are my thoughts driven from their resting place; 
Though sometimes widely scattered, one still lingers 

A watchful guardian o'er that hallowed vase 
Filled with affection's drops of happiness, 

Where as at some fair shrine I bow my knee, 
And while its matchless incense round me hovers 

I'll think of thee, dear love, I'll think of thee. 



THE HUSBAND TO HIS WIFE. 

DEAR, 'mid the trials of our life, 
That hover round on stormy wing, 
I have one thought to which I cling 
With joy and pride. Thou art my wife, 
The partner of my joys and woes; 
I've drank with thee the cup of bliss, 
Delicious as love's nectared kiss, 
And borne with thee pain's cruel throes. 

Whene'er Fate's vengeful lightnings dart, 
And black-winged tempests round us blow, 
How precious 'tis for me to know 

Thou hast a shelter in my heart; 

And only thou dost hold the key 
To ope its portals at thy will, 
And only thou hast power to thrill 

Its every nerve with ecstacy 



2IO POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

O, ever since that first dear hour 

I gave my honor to thy care, 

Have we been faithful. None might share 
With us our chaste and sacred bower, 
In which arch Love, with shoulders bare, 

Save where the ringlets ripple down 

To kiss their dimples, smiles and frowns 
'Mong scattered toys and blossoms rare. 

And ever till the hour of death 

For one or both will we be true; 

Nay, longer. Through the ether blue 
Points, with uplifted finger, Faith, 
To yon fair world of life and light, 

Where death is not, nor grief, nor pain; 

There, let us trust, our souls again 
Will in perpetual bliss unite. 



MY ANGEL BOY. 

MY angel comes to me in dreams, 
My pretty boy with golden hair, 
More fair, more pure than light he seems, 
And more etherial than the air. 

He brings me oft some beauteous flower 
From his celestial realms of bliss, 

And cheers the lonely midnight hour 
With many a loving word and kiss- 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 211 

He leaves a brightness in the room, 

Which lasts throughout the toilsome day, 

And when my heart is crushed with gloom 
I thither go to kneel and pray. 

There can I ever find true rest, 

And hope, and comfort; there in peace 

I clasp sweet memory to my breast, 
And from my troubles find release. 



BABY ANNIE. 

BABY Annie, like a flower bud, 
Slowly, day by day, expands. 
Sometime we shall lose our darling 
With the tiny, dimpled hands; 

With the odd, grave look of wonder 
At the strange new things she sees; 

With the motions fitful, restless, 
As the motions of the breeze. 

Sometime we shall lose our darling; 

In her place we may behold, 
By and by, a beauteous lady, 

Stately, self-possessed and cold. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

So adorned by art that Nature's 
Pretty charms are hidden quite 

'Neath the cultivated graces 

Which proud Fashion's eye delight. 

This may be, dear baby Annie, 

Since your mother's traits you show; 

Well the dainty bud we'll cherish 
Till the splendid flower shall blow. 



THE MIDNIGHT CRY. 

A CRY rang out in the desolate night: 
" Come, Love, oh, come to me! 
Haste and remove the mildew blight 
Which has fallen o'er and obscured my sight 
That yearns to follow thee." 

A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
" Must I call to thee in vain? 
O love, I know the stars are bright, 
And the moon is shedding her silver light, 
Yet on me pours the rain." 

A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
"The watery mists upraise; 
They surge around and enfold me quite 
In their chilling gloom, through which her flight 
In vain my soul essays." 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 213 

A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
" O why repulse me so ? 
I would kneel at thy feet, my heart's delight, 
And kiss thy fingers so soft and white, 
And bask in thy smile's warm glow." 

A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
" I would lean upon thy breast, 
And play with the curls, whose waves of light 
Encircle thy forehead broad and white, 
My beautiful, my best." 

A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
" I look and long to see 
The sun rise over yon mountain height, 
When thou'lt stand revealed, my cloud-veiled sprite, 
And float like a dream to me." 



A song rings out in the morning bright: 
" No more, no more alone! 
Henceforth together we'll take our flight, 
To the spheres of beauty, and love, and light, 
My darling, we are one." 



Poems of Childhood. 



THE BABY. 

GOD bless the baby! See how glad 
She seems to have her hat put on. 
One must in haste the ribbons tie, 
She's so impatient to be gone. 

Ay, bless her! Change to her is dear 
As to her elders. Let her go 

Where she may see the bright blue sky, 
And bask within the sun's warm glow. 

Take her among the lovely flowers; 

They are as yet her fittest mates; 
They understand her broken words, — 

They and the angels at Heaven's gates. 

See how she smiles! She seems to know 
What we are saying. Baby, dear, 

You've made the world a brighter place 
For all of us since you came here. 

You've shown us what we all have been 
In the dim distance of the past, 

And given a foretaste of the bliss 
That surely will be ours at last, 



2l8 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 

When our earth wanderings are o'er, 
With all their weariness and pain, 

And to his family gathering 

Our Father calls us home again. 



TO A CHILD. 

DEAR little child, come play with me, 
And twine thy roses in my hair. 
Would that I were as pure as thee, 
Would that my mind like thine were free 
From pain and care. 

I kiss thy rosy palms, my dear. 

See, angel lips have left before 
Their impress in the dimples here, 
But I — I've stained them with a tear. 

I'll kiss no more. 

Let me gaze in those truthful eyes, 
Those pretty guileless orbs of thine, 

Now opened wide in sweet surprise; 

How clear the light of Paradise 
Doth in them shine. 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 219 

Life's rugged path I fain would smooth, 

My darling, for thy tender feet, 
And guard from sin thy artless youth, 
And lead thee in the ways of truth 

Thy God to meet. 

But abler hands, I trust, than mine 

Will bear thee onward, upward too, 
And set thee high, where thou mayst shine, 
And star-like flood with light divine 

The ether blue. 



GRACIE. 

GRACIE underneath the table, 
Gracie on the chair, 
Gracie in her friends' embraces, 
Gracie everywhere. 

Pit-a-pat, from morn to even 

Trip her little feet; 
All who know her pet her, love her, 

Gracie is so sweet. 

Golden curls and dimpled shoulders, 

Eyes of violet hue, 
Rosy lips where streams of laughter 

Hourly ripple through. 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 

Never did a fairer casket 

Human soul confine, 
Never did a brighter spirit 

Through its earth robes shine. 

In our partial pride we call her 
Love-child of the sun, 

Since her presence lights our pathway- 
Happy-hearted one. 

Darling Gracie, fine, transparent 

Is the atmosphere 
Thee surrounding. May it ever 

Seem as pure and clear. 



PLEASURES OF SNOW. 

OUT in the glittering sunshine, 
Out in the glorious snow, 
Shouting, and singing, and dancing, 

The merry young school children go. 
Find in their innocent faces 

Care or distrust if you can, 
Those horrible creatures that only 
Adhere to the stature of man. 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 221 

Down the bank see them careering 

On sleds painted crimson and green; 
The toil of ascending the hill-top 

Gives zest to the pleasure, I ween. 
Anon, to the crystalline river 

They speed them away in a trice, 
And like birds on the bosom of ether 

They skim o'er the slippery ice. 

Now burning with true martial ardor 

All eagerly join in the fight, 
With heaps of white snowballs for bullets, 

And eyes throwing lances of light. 
What matter if bruised cheeks and noses 

Result from the mimic affray, 
'Tis a trial of 'spunk,' and no soldier 

Would bear the ' white feather ' away. 

The embryo architect quickly 

A glistening structure uprears, 
The sculptor essays his first statue 

'Mid heartiest laughter and cheers. 
You may sing as you list of old Winter, 

But none save a school-boy can know 
What exquisite, health-giving pleasures 

Dissolve with the beautiful snow. 



22 2 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 



CHILD TREASURES. 

I HAVE a play-house with dishes in it, 
And chairs, and tables, and lots of things, 
And a painted cage, and a dear brown linnet, 
That hops all the day-time and merrily sings. 

And I have a doll with hair all curly, 
And eyes that open and shut like mine, 

And I wake her up in the morning early, 

And put her to bed when the night stars shine. 

But I think the most of all of Beauty — 
My little white kitten with velvet paws, 

And I try to teach her a kitten's duty, 
For cats like folks must obey the laws. 

O, I am happy amid my treasures, 

And mamma says, when she sees me play, 

" This life has nothing like childhood's pleasures, 
Enjoy them, my darling, while you may." 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 223 



GOD'S CARE FOR THE LITTLE ONES. 

KNOW ye, my dear ones, that all little children 
Are God's peculiar care ? 
That ever in their footsteps angels follow, 

With love's devotion rare, 
To lift them gently o'er the miry places, 

And shelter their young heads 
When terror, o'er the sunny sky above them, 
His threatening storm-cloud spreads ? 

They weary not, those kind celestial wardens, 

For love renews their strength, 
And Faith supports them on her arm unfailing, 

And shows them that at length 
Success shall crown their beautiful endeavors, 

That those whom now they guard 
Will sometime in fond gratitude return them 

Devotion's rich reward. 



2 24 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 



TO A CHILD. 

DEAR little rosy lips 
Pouting so sadly; 
Dear little childish heart 

Aching so badly; 
Bright eyes abrim with tears. 
Oh! from your early years 
I would all griefs and fears 
Banish so gladly. 

Look up, poor stricken one, 
Light shines above thee; 

Light from the tender smiles 
Of those who love thee. 

Now while it cheers and warms 

Fly to their open arms, 

Tell them what soul alarms 
Painfully move thee. 

Now hast thou calm become 

At my entreating, 
Now is thy lightened heart 

Gratefully beating. 
Oh! might our older hearts, 
Pierced by affliction's darts, 
Find all their aches and smarts 

Even as fleeting. 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 225 



THE PENITENT. 

HOW I cried and cried last night, mamma, 
When you carried the light away, 
And refused to give me the good-night kiss 
Because I'd been naughty all day. 

My heart, oh, it felt so sore, mamma, 

And I thought if I should die 
Without your blessing how papa would frown 

When I met him in the sky. 

For he always frowned when I sinned, mamma, 
When he used to live with us here, 

Before God called him away to heaven 
In the springtime of last year. 

I sobbed myself to sleep, mamma, 

And I dreamed such a strange, strange dream, 
I thought I was standing alone at eve 

By the side of a singing stream. 

The nail heads in heaven's floor, mamma, 
Gleamed bright as an angel's eyes; 

But I liked not to be alone at night, 
Alone with the wonderful skies. 



226 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 

The river's watery arms, mamma, 
Closed round me where I stood, 

And far as my eyes could reach it seemed 
A boiling, angry flood. 

The waves crawled up and up, mamma, 
Till they reached my throbbing breast, 

And I longed as I never longed before 
For my own dear fireside nest. 

But now there came to my aid, mamma, 

A beautiful angel form, 
And I woke to feel upon my lips 

Your kisses, soft and warm. 

My heart burst into flower, mamma, 

Because of the joy it knew, 
Like the rose in my garden, the other morn, 

All beaded over with dew. 

Stoop lower, and kiss me again, mamma; 

There now, in your soft blue eyes, 
I see a sunshine more bright than that 

Which pours from the midday skies. 

I'll do all I can to be good, mamma, 
And try not to grieve you more, 

For I feel how precious you are to me 
As I never felt before. 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 227 



WHERE ARE THE ROSES? 

" IV /I A, where are the roses now?" 

] VI Asked a little, bright-eyed girl. 
And the mother answered, smiling, 
" Prisoned in their cells of pearl, 

" Waiting for the messenger 

June will send them some fair night, 
Who with kindly hand shall lead them 
Blushing to the morning light." 

" And the violets where are they ? " 
" Peeping through their window bars, 
Wondering at the sun god's splendor 
And the glory of the stars. 

" Of all seasons of the year 

Far most beautiful in spring, 
When the charmed eye daily gazes 
On some new and lovely thing 

" Fresh from the Creator's hand, 
Pure as His own sanctity; 
They who most enjoy such blessings 
Nearest to His soul must be." 



228 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 



GREETING TO CHRISTMAS. 

GOOD morrow, old man, with the silvery hair, 
And the merry eyes winking at sorrow and care 
Till they smile in despite of their gloom. 

Come in; we have long been preparing for you, 
Who have never yet failed us — would all were as true 
And mindful of promises given. 

Sit down at our board; you're a welcome old guest, 
And be sure, Father Christmas, we'll give you the best 
That our cooks and our larders afford. 

The old folk esteem you their worthiest friend, 
And I see by their looks they're designing to spend 
The day in gay gossip with you. 

The children regard you with wonder and awe, 
Intermixed with delight, for on them you bestow 
Nice presents of sweetmeats and toys. 

And we, who are climbing life's zenith, rejoice 
At the sound of your footstep and blustering voice 
When entering in at the door. 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 229 

For kindness and charity leap from your heart, 
And with cheery good humor contribute their part 
To make the time pleasant for all. 

Now give us your blessing, old friend, and we'll pray 
That all may enjoy at the close of life's day 
A Christmas eternal above. 



WRITE YOUR NAME. 

ALOFT on the rock of Fame, brave boy, 
High up on the rock of Fame, 
Great Honor stands, 
With outstretched hands, 
And calls, " Come write your name,, brave boy, 
Come hither and write your name." 

Go up and write your name, brave boy, 
Climb high and write your name 

In letters free 

That all may see 
And strive to do the same, brave boy, 

Strive hard to do the same. 



Patriotic Poems. 



RETURN OF THE GRAND ARMY. 

THEY'RE coming back, our gallant boys, 
Who left our side so long ago; 
Left home and all its quiet joys 

To face a vengeful, ruthless foe; 
To suffer hardship and disease, 

And misery in every form; 
Now, led by Victory and Peace, 
Our soldier boys are coming home. 

Our own brave boys are coming home, 
Our gallant lads are coming home; 
Now, led by Victory and Peace, 
Our soldier boys are coming home. 

Let banners fly and cannons roar, 

And beat the spirit-stirring drum; 
Shout cheers on cheers the wide land o'er 

To greet our heroes when they come. 
And let our glad, triumphant songs 

Rise proudly up to yon blue dome, 
While echo still the strain prolongs, 
Our soldier boys are coming home. 
Our gallant lads are coming home, 
Our noble ones are coming home, 
While echo still the strain prolongs, 
Our soldier boys are coming home. 



234 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 

And those for whom the Nation grieves, 

The blessed dead, the slaughtered braves, 
We'll strip the laurel of its leaves 

To scatter o'er their hallowed graves. 
We'll shed for them love's tenderest tears, 

We'll write their names in memory's tome, 
And sometime in the future years 

They'll say of us, " They're coming home! 
Our long lost friends are coming home, 
Our darling ones are coming home! " 
They'll say of us in future years, 
" Our own dear friends are coming home." 



HYMN FOR THANKSGIVING. 

1865. 

LIFT up your hearts in grateful praise, 
O people of this favored land; 
Praise ye the Lord, whose pitying hand 
Gave Peace to crown the smiling days. 

Praise ye the Lord, whose love made strong 
Your courage in the past dread years, 
When ye, in agony and tears, 

Strove with the mighty demon — Wrong. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 

Praise ye the Lord; sing anthems sweet 
To Him who freed the crouching slave, 
And to our toiling armies gave 

A victory lasting and complete. 

Praise ye the Lord, for changeful spring, 
Whose sunny skies and strengthening rains, 
Hastened the grasses, fruits, and grains, 

And flowers to early blossoming. 

Praise ye the Lord, for summer heat 
That ripened fast the waving corn, 
Of which our staff of life is born, 

The food we and our children eat. 

Praise ye the Lord, for autumn's store, 
Her plenteous harvests gathered in. 
How have we so prevailed to win 

His grace unworthy as we are ? 

Praise Him! let thankful songs arise 
From temple, cot, and palace dome, 
Upswelling to our future home, 

The sacred courts of Paradise. 



235 



236 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 



ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1865. 

O BRAVE old year of sixty-five, 
Thy mighty heart is breaking now, 
Its pulse is wearing faint and slow, 
Few are the hours thou canst survive. 

What hast thou done in thy long march 
Through the wide realms of hoary Time ? 
What wondrous deeds, what acts sublime 

Hast painted on heaven's boundless arch? 

For thus my fancy argueth, 

Yon canopy of azure hue 

Bears the impress of all we do 
Of good or ill from birth to death. 

And when the angel comes at eve 
To set night's torches all aflame, 
He reads, how often to our shame, 

The last reports its record give. 

What hast thou done? Let me recall. 

O year, thou wast a gallant lad, 

Not wholly good nor wholly bad; 
In this how like unto us all. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 237 

Then, in thy early manhood fired 

By noble ardor, thou didst swear 

The chronicles of time should bear 
Thy name respected and admired 

As few names are; and thou didst raise 

A monument to Liberty, 

So grand, so strong, so vast, that we 
Are lost in wonder while we. gaze. 

It is no evanescent thing 

That thou hast done for human rights; 

Far up the Future's cloud-veiled heights 
My spirit hears thy praises ring. 

And bravely didst thou win and wear 

The star-gemmed zone of Victory; 

Now millions, by thy hand made free, 
Embalm thy name in hallowed prayer. 

I hear thy heir's impatient call; 

He's waiting at the door. Alas! 

Old things, however great, give place 
Unto the new, however small. 

Well, well, we'll welcome him untried; 

But, though he may to honors grow, 

He never can surpass, we know, 
His famous sire — great Sixty-five. 



238 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 



THE PEACE JUBILEE. 

ALL hail to the herald of happier times, 
Whose lips chant the beautiful anthems of Peace. 
Each soul in the Nation responsively chimes, 
While praying that angry contentions may cease. 

Let it roll in its strength, that vast ocean of sound. 

To the North, and the South, and the East and the West. 
Let Discord and War in its surges be drowned. 

That the children of earth may find heavenly rest. 

Hark! hark to the roar of the mighty refrain, 
As it soars to the stars with ambitious desire 

To meet, in his innermost temple again, 
The spirit of music — its glorious sire. 

All hail to the angel of harmony! hail 

To the herald of peace and good will to mankind 

Who partly upraiseth Heaven's mystical veil 
To show us what grandeur existeth behind. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 239 



THE THIRTIETH OF MAY. 



FATHERS, mothers, sisters, brothers, 
Wives, and comrades of the braves, 
Whose forsaken bodies moulder, 

Day by day, in quiet graves, 
Lay aside the busy present, 

Give this day to tender thought 
Of the time when your beloved 
Gladness to the old home brought. 



Then, a little step ascending 

On the mount of memory, 
Of the time when Sumter's cannon 

Shook the land from sea to sea; 
Of the time when War's loud clarion 

Sounded through the atmosphere, 
Calling from the heart of woman 

Many an anguished sob and tear; 

Of the time when trembling fingers 
Interlaced in mute good-bye, 

While the soul's sublime emotions 
Flushed the cheek and fired the eye; 



240 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 

Of the time of weary waiting, 

Dread suspense and torturing fears, 

Through the trials and the horrors 
Of those lingering cruel years; 

Of the time, when, 'mid your labors 

For their comfort, tidings came 
That your noble ones had fallen 

Bleeding at the feet of Fame; 
Of the time, when to your vision 

Hope's fair star seemed in eclipse, 
While you pressed the parting kisses 

On your martyrs' pallid lips. 

Oh, be sure that while you scatter 

Flowers upon your soldiers' graves, 
Love will bear the beauteous token 

Over Time's etherial waves 
To their spirits, happy, grateful 

That your hearts no change have known, 
That you trust, with faith unswerving, 

Soon again to clasp your own. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 241 



THE ORPHANS' APPEAL. 



CAN you hear our childish voices, 
Through the din of busy day, 
Pleading to be rightly guided 

On life's strange and devious way; 
Pleading to be kindly sheltered 

From the furious storms that sweep 
Ruthlessly along the highways, 
Where we lonely sit and weep ? 



Those who pressed us to their bosoms 

In the blest hours of the past, 
Who in aid of Freedom perished, 

Sank beneath war's fiery blast, 
Were our fathers, and their white lips, 

Stiffening, breathed this fervent prayer, 
" O our country, make the loved ones 

Whom we leave thy sacred care. 



" By our many sacrifices, 

By the blood we freely shed 
In thy holy cause, we charge thee 
Let our cherished ones be fed; 



242 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 

Fed and trained to follow ever 
In the paths the just have trod." 

Thus they prayed, our patriot fathers, 
Ere their spirits soared to God. 

We, their little sons and daughters, 

Stand beside the outer gate 
Of the fane of Wisdom. Open, 

Wardens, ere it be too late. 
Show us how to grow in knowledge, 

Aid our willing feet to climb 
Up the towering steeps of Virtue, 

To the home of Truth sublime. 



UNCLE SAM. 

JULY 4TH, 1876. 

A HUNDRED years ago, they say, 
'Mid laboring throes of mortal pain, 
Columbia's womb was rent in twain, 
A hundred years ago to-day. 

Then forth into the light there leapt 
A lusty youth, a prodigy, 
Who shook his fists at Tyranny 

With baby anger while he crept. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 243 

He grew apace. The stalwart lad 

Was fed on coarse but wholesome food, 
And, though sometimes uncouth and rude, 

His manners were not wholly bad. 

An eager curiosity 

Gave lustre to his fearless eye; 

He liked to know the reason why, 
And longed the hidden cause to see. 

He was not a strife-loving elf, 

Yet had his quarrels now and then, 
And waged, as have the best of men, 

His fiercest conflicts with himself. 

Now to the gazing world this day 

His century's work with pride he shows. 
A hundred years to come — who knows 

What wonders he may then display. 



244 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 



FOURTH OF JULY. 

1876. 

y I ^IS past; the golden day has fleeted by 

1 Upborne by angels crowned with immortelles 
And other days press after, with their freight 
Of new achievements, wearing on their brows 
The crownlet of fruition, glittering 
With light reflected from that day of days. 

Behold, now with renewed and strengthened zeal 
The late rejoicing multitudes resume 
Their customary labors, conscious that 
On them and theirs a sacred charge is laid; 
A charge to make the future realize 
The ardent aspirations of the past. 

Let poet-prophets now, by faith inspired, 

Sing of the wondrous possibilities 

Whose germs are quickening in the soil made warm 

By patriotic fervor. By and by, 

The sun of truth will draw those seedlings forth 

When all may learn their beauty and their use. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 245 



THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 

PUT on your gayest, purest robes, 
Ye flowers, to grace this glorious year, 
And wreathe with smiles your fragrant lips 
To let your inward joy appear. 

For you have sprung from Freedom's soil 
Ne'er yet by foot of tyrant trod, 

With swinging censers to perfume 
The altar of the living God. 

O may the next centennial find 

You still the wards of Liberty, 
While through all lands the breezes waft 

The glad rejoicings of the free. 

The free from crime, the free from shame, 
The free from dread Oppression's snare; 

And, oh! may Truth and Honor sow 
The seeds of Virtue everywhere. 

Then may you crown, with fragrant wreaths, 
A world more worthy far than now 

Of your adornment; one that Love 
Shall with celestial gifts endow. 



246 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 

And you, henceforth, perennial 
In Flora's everlasting bowers 

Shall bloom, while all that live unite 
To sing your praise, ye lovely flowers. 



COLUMBIA. 



O HAPPY land! O favored land! 
Columbia! Columbia! 
Lift up thy forehead, broad and grand, 

Columbia! Columbia! 
About thee a devoted band, 
Shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, 
A living wall thy children stand, 
Columbia! Columbia! 

Two mighty shields protect thy breast, 

Columbia! Columbia! 
An ocean east, an ocean west, 

Columbia! Columbia! 
Thy lap is filled with fruits the best 
That nature yields; thy form is dressed 
In garments beautiful and chaste, 

Columbia! Columbia! 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 247 

The treasures of the earth are thine, 

Columbia! Columbia! 
The teeming wealth of rock and mine, 

Columbia! Columbia! 
But more than all this joy is thine, 
The blessings of a power benign, 
The guidance of a hand divine, 

Columbia! Columbia! 



THE PATRIOTS' HYMN. 

OUR country, on thine altar 
A myriad hearts are laid, 
That proudly scorned to falter 

When Freedom claimed their aid. 
Would we their fadeless laurels share, 
Their sacred mantles we must wear, 
Like them to do, like them to dare; 
Faithful forever 
O noble land of liberty! 
Thy patriot sons shall keep thee free; 
The ties that bind their love to thee 
Nothing can sever. 

No tyrants chains enslave thee, 

O land, of lands the pride, 
To us our fathers gave thee 

Unfettered when they died. 



248 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 

Then, by our children's rightful claim, 
Still to preserve thy glorious name 
Untarnished on the crest of Fame 
Will we endeavor. 
O noble land of liberty, etc. 

Dear land of love and beauty, 
The thought of thee inspires 

Each one to do his duty 
With zeal that never tires. 

Without regret we sacrifice 

For thy dear sake life's tenderest ties; 

Thou call'st, and Freedom's host denies 
Thee succour, never. 
O noble land of Liberty, etc. 

Great God, with hearts united 

We praise and worship Thee, 
Whose smile has ever lighted 

The footsteps of the Free. 
O kindest Friend! O truest Guide! 
Still to Thy care do we confide 
Our starry Flag, Columbia's pride, 
Guard it forever. 

O noble land of liberty! 

Thy patriot sons shall keep three free; 

The ties that bind their love to thee 
Nothing can sever. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 



249 



THE DYING FLAG BEARER. 



COMRADE, do not leave me yet, 
But kneel down and press your hand 
On the wound that, jet by jet, 

Flings my life blood on the sand. 
Press it tighter; fain I'd leave 

In your care my last request; 
When a furlough you receive 
Seek the friends I love the best. 



Tell them gently how I died, 

While their trembling hands you clasp, 
How the shot that pierced my side 

Tore our banner from my grasp. 
My young sister helped to make 

That fair flag three years ago, 
And eight times, for Freedom's sake, 

It and I have faced the foe. 



Listen now! When I am dead, 
That I may untroubled rest, 

Lay the stars beneath my head, 
And the stripes upon my breast. 



250 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 

Wrap them closely round my heart, 
That so oft with pride has thrilled 

When like tongues of flame they'd dart 
As the breeze their folds outfilled. 

O be faithful unto me! 

See that all I wish is done, 
So that you may honored be 

When my sands of life are run. 
Take your hand from off my breast, 

Bear my body from the field; 
God be thanked! now cometh rest; 

Unto Him my soul I yield. 



Poems of the Seasons. 



NEW YEAR'S DAY. 

A HAPPY New Year! Both far and near 
Ringeth the greeting, so loud and clear, 
While hearts are lightly bounding. 
Trouble is flung to the winds away, 
And the merry cry, " 'Tis New Year's Day! " 
Over the land is sounding. 

And grim old care must awhile forbear, 
His plaints are wasted on empty air, 

For we've no time for sorrow. 
And all repining and discontent, 
And other plagues which on earih are sent, 

We'll shut out till to-morrow. 

The day is begun with mirth and fun; 
Joy reigns triumphant till set of sun, 

Proud with the guests to mingle. 
And when eve cometh what happiness 
For all to gather around and bless 

The cheerful household ingle. 



254 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 



THE PASSAGE OF WINTER 

SWIFT through the vale of the Present Lowing 
Into the Past the Winter is going, 
Bearing away, away, away, 
Clustered fruits from the tree of our beii.g, 
Grown in the smile of the great all-seeing 
God of the night, Lord of the day, 

Into the Past the Winter is gliding, 
Singing, " O man there is no abiding 

Place for me, — for me or thee! 
Change is the ruler of earth, and ever 
He laughs to scorn thy weak endeavor 

To anchor thy ship in life's sounding sea." 

Out from the Present, with steady motion, 
The Winter flows to the mystic ocean, 

The wondrous Past, so vague, so vast, 
Whose muffled dash on the rocks of Time 
Makes a requiem solemn, a dirge sublime 

O'er the dead hopes into its bosom cast. 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 255 



AWAKE, O EARTH. 

WAKE, O sleeping earth, awake! 
Lay aside thy robe of snow, 
Don thy emerald mantle now, 
We adjure thee for the sake 
Of the buds that fain would blow; 

Of the many lovely things 

That thy summoning voice await 
To attend upon thy state. 

Lo! they wave impatient wings 
By Anticipation's gate. 

Sleeping earth, awake! arise! 

Shake the torper from thy heart; 

Tear inaction's bands apart; 
Warm with smiles the frigid skies; 

Force harsh Winter to depart. 

Peace, and bliss, and light, and love, 
Then shall crown the happy hours 
With gay wreathes of fragrant flowers, 

While life's manna from above 
Softly falls in quickening showers. 



256 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 



WILL SHE NEVER COME? 

WILL she never, never come ? 
The beauteous maiden robed in green, 
Whose face is all aglow with smiles, 
Whose heart is full of witching wiles, 
The dearest maiden e'er was seen, 
Will she never, never come ? 

How impatiently we wait 

To hear again her gladsome voice, 

Her merry laugh, her songs of cheer; 

With watchful eye, and listening ear, 

For her in whom all things rejoice, 

How impatiently we wait! 

Will she never, never come ? 
Ah! yes; amid the icy showers, 

The howling winds, the drifting snow, 
We hear a whisper, sweet and low; 
She comes, the maiden crowned with flowers, 
Spring, the blessed maiden, comes! 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 257 



BREAK, O WAVES! 

BREAK, O waves, in dimpled smiles, 
Leap and catch the silvery rain, 
Bringing warmth from southern isles. 
Spring has come to us again, 
Melting every icy chain 
From thy limbs, O azure lake; 

Warble now thy wonted strain 
Softly for the Spring's dear sake. 

Meadows, deck your brows with flowers; 

Woodlands, don your mantles green; 
Hasten with the laughing hours 

To adorn your virgin queen; 

Fairer none were ever seen, 
More beloved none well could be; 

Balmy airs and skies serene 
Brings she, happy land, to thee. 

Fling around your odors sweet, 

Blossoming bough and budding spray; 
Winged bards, again repeat 

All your love songs to the day. 

Come, O merry-hearted May, 
Deck our gardens and our groves, 

Change our country's cloak of gray 
For the emerald robe she loves. 



258 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 



ACROSTIC. 

TAKE again thy tuneful lyre, 
Happy-souled, delightful May, 
Echo bids thee sing and play. 

'Mong the lonely hills she waits, 
O, how gladly waits for thee! 
Notes of brook, and bird, and bee, 
Tones of joy are flowing free, 
Harmony unbars her gates. 

Open on our raptured sight 
Fairy landscapes new and bright. 

Matchless, in thy fresh array, 
Art thou, charming month of May, 
Youth and love are thine alway. 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 259 



THE MAY. 

THE earth lay barren, and cold, and gray, 
The clouds enclosed it like prison walls, 
When the beautiful, generous fairy May 
Came forth from her hidden elfin halls. 

She wept when she gazed on the lifeless scene, 
And her tears in glittering streamlets ran, 

And all through the burning summer-time 
They strengthened the fainting heart of man. 

But Hope knelt by her and kissed her eyes, 
Till out of their depths leapt joyous smiles, 

And laughter sounded instead of sighs 
In the wakening forest's echoing aisles. 

The May shook lightly her curls of gold, 
And the air was filled with an odor sweet, 

While flowers sprang forth with enchanted life 
'Neath the pressure warm of her tiny feet. 

She breathed on the trees, so brown and bare, 
And velvet leaves, of a pale green hue, 

Beaded the branches. Oh! fresh and fair 
As Eden the world at her bidding grew. 



260 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 

She called the birds from the sun-loved South, 
And they fluttered around her with songs of praise, 

Till Silence was drowned in the melody 
That deluged the land in those happy days. 



MAY TIME. 

THE robins are mad with delight, my friend, 
For the beautiful Queen of May, 
With wreaths of flowers on her lily brow, 
Has entered our land to-day. 

The cattle are pictures of calm content, 

As they browse the tender grass, 
And all things living in peace enjoy 

The moments as they pass. 

The leaves are astir in the swelling buds, 

And a mystery broods around, 
For new creations are soon to raise 

Their forms from the fertile ground. 

Dame Nature, busy as busy can be, 

Toils cheerfully night and day, 
For the harvest will come to naught, she says, 

If the seed-time be spent in play. 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 261 

Her words are wise, as experience proves, 

Let us grave them on memory; 
The lesson they teach may be fraught with good 

For the future to you and me. 

Like her let us work in life's joyous Spring, 

That, when Autumn dons her crown, 
The fields we have tended may gladden all eyes 

With their harvest full and brown. 



JUNE. 

SHE comes, the glory of the year; 
Let all to welcome her arise 
Whose soul-love warms our atmosphere, 
Whose smile's reflected in our skies. 

Arise to greet her, lovely flowers, 
Pour out your incense at her feet, 

And, minstrels of the leafy bowers, 
Sing to her anthems grand and sweet. 

O Sun, enfold our Summer Queen 
In garments woven of thy beams, 

And deck with gems her brow serene 
Ye fountains gay, and sportive streams. 

Zoned with the rainbow, lo! she comes, 
The Graces following in her train; 

Admit her to your darkened homes, 
O mourners, and be glad again. 



262 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 



THE ADVENT OF SUMMER. 

JUNE, with trailing robe of splendor, 
All embroidered o'er with roses, 
Leads in summer, flushed and eager. 

And the land makes haste to greet them, 
Scatters at their feet libations 
From the teeming horn of plenty. 

Overhead the sky, cerulian, 
Lightly veiled in silken tissue, 
Showers soft kisses on the flowerets. 

Countless streams meander, singing 
Of the beauties they encounter 
In the woods and open meadows. 

Pebbles gleam among their shallows, 
Tiny fish dart hither, thither, 
Sporting in the flashing ripples. 

Faint with sweetness is the sunshine; 
Tremulous with fairy music 
Is the atmosphere about us. 

But all other sounds outsoaring 

Swells to Heaven earth's grateful chorus — 

Praise the Giver! praise the Giver! 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 263 



FAREWELL TO JUNE. 

Farewell, dear June, 
Thou bright-eyed daughter of the year, 
We may not keep thee longer here. 
Thy mission done, thou must away, 
Nor can our prayers thy flight delay; 

Farewell, dear June. 

Warm-hearted June, 
Thou hast poured blessings on our land; 
The genial showers, the breezes bland, 
The cheering sunbeams luring forth 
The tender herbage from the earth, 

Attest it, June. 

Go, queenly June! 
But leave with us thy crown of roses, 
And all the fragrance it encloses; 
While revelling in its sweetness, we 
Will sacred hold thy memory, 

O peerless June! 



264 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 



SEPTEMBER. 

FIRST of autumn's rustic train 
Comes September, walking slowly- 
Through her fields of garnered grain. 
Peaceful is her brow, and holy 
The expression of her eyes 
Lifted to the tranquil skies. 

With a blessing-laden hand 
Visits she each lowly dwelling 
Of the toilers of the land. 
Countless songs of gladness swelling 
Loud proclaim their gratitude 
For their portion of life's food. 

When her gifts are all bestowed, 
And completed is her mission, 
Floats she like some downy cloud 
'Yond the range of mortal vision. 
Fleets forever from our sight, 
Shrouded in the veil of night. 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 265 



OCTOBER. 

BEAUTIFUL month, with thy pensive eyes 
Gazing far up in the misty skies, 
Month of the gorgeous tinted leaves; 
Month of the gathered golden sheaves; 
Month of plenty, and peace, and mirth, 
Gladly we welcome thee back to earth, 

October! 

Beautiful month, whose arms enfold 
The summer's heat, and the winter's cold, 
Blended together in union sweet. 
Health walks in the track of thy glancing feet; 
Cool and inspiriting grows the air 
That tosses the locks of thy chestnut hair, 

October! 

Beautiful month of refined desires, 
Of the sun-blest days and the evening fires; 
Month of reflection and solemn prayer, 
While the trees each hour grow brown and bare, 
Reminding us still of that nearing day 
When like thee from earth we must pass away, 

October! 



266 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 



NOVEMBER. 

NOVEMBER, few lips sing thy praise, 
Few voices hail thy coming feet; 
Men frown upon thy gloomy days, 
Nor care thy chilling form to meet. 

And yet thou bring'st the cheerful fires, 
The social evenings, home's best charm; 
And oft thy mournful mien inspires 
Reflection, and compassion warm. 

Thou bid'st us from our world dreams turn 
To muse upon our future fate, 
All thoughts and deeds unworthy spurn, 
And seek high honor's restful state. 

November, though with downcast eyes 
Thou movest slowly, sadly by, 
Our grateful memories long shall prize 
The lessons thou hast taught — good-bye. 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 267 



AUTUMN. 

AUTUMN walks her yearly rounds; 
Listen to her plaintive song, 
Echoing the hills among, 
Drearily it sounds. 

And her breath falls damp and chill 
On the herbage, summer-grown; 

Soon 'tis changed from green to brown 
By her potent will. 

Now the trees with homage true, 
Cast their mantles 'neath her feet; 

Grey and bare their gaunt forms meet 
Our deploring view. 

Pauses she where yet delay 

Flora's lovely sweet-breathed flowers, 
And she bids the passing hours 

Bear them all away. 

Hark! she says, in accents cold, 
" Count me not your enemy, 
For there cometh after me 
One more fierce and bold. 



268 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 

"Did I not in time prepare 

And forewarn ye, sons of earth, 
Winter would, in place of mirth, 
Bring ye dark despair. 

"Count me not your enemy; 
I but for a little time 
Hide the treasures of your clime 
From Death's searching eye. 

"When dark Winter's reign is o'er 
Spring will bring you back again 
All the beauties I have ta'en 
With a thousand more." 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 269 



WINTER'S WOOING. 

WINTER comes to claim his bride; 
He has had a stormy wooing, 
Since fair Autumn's lofty pride 

Could not brook his harsh subduing; 
Still she, frowning, answered, Nay, 
To his pleading, day by day. 

Now, however, she is won, 

He has forced her to surrender; 

And the bridal hour comes soon, 

And the bridesmaid, cold December. 

Autumn, with a yielding sigh, 

Bids her maiden dreams good-bye. 



270 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 



WINTER'S APPROACH. 

HE is coming, hoary Winter; 
So his heralds loud proclaim, 
And the bird's fly off affrighted 
At the mention of his name; 
And the meek flowers, gently sighing, 
Hide their heads beneath the mold, 
Praying, " Keep us in thy bosom, 
Mother Nature, from the cold." 

He is coming, hoary Winter, 

And the trees, a-chill with fear, 
Drop their vesture and grow torpid 

When his heavy tread they hear; 
And above his head the tempests 

Rend the clouds to shreds in wrath, 
While grim-visaged Desolation 

Follows closely on his path. 

He is coming, hoary Winter, 

Soon o'er river, lake and rill 
He will breathe the freezing fiat, 
" Be ye mute, and be ye still." 
And they'll hear, and they'll obey him, 

And their laughing waves will cease 
To be whirled about at random 
By the mischief-loving breeze. 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 27 1 

He is coming, hoary Winter; 

Soon he'll knock at every door, 
And he'll enter uninvited 

In the cabins of the poor; 
And like some imperious despot, 

Though they humbly pray and plead, 
He will seize upon their earnings, 

All regardless of their need. 

He is coming, hoary winter, 

And his heart is icy cold; 
And the helpless ones will tremble 

When his stern face they behold; 
For he knows no tender mercy, 

From his eyes no tear-drop starts, 
But his cruel feet go crashing, 

Crashing over human hearts. 

He is coming, hoary Winter; 

Oh prepare, prepare, prepare! 
All ye favored ones of fortune 

Let the poor your bounty share. 
Aid them in their arduous struggle 

With the monster at the gate; 
Aid them nobly, aid them quickly, 

Let not succor come too late. 

He is coming, hoary Winter; 

Then let Charity speed forth 
Through the highways and the by-ways 

East and west, and south and north. 



272 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 

Go with her, free-handed Plenty, 
Smiling Hope and gentle Peace; 

They who send you, they who meet you, 
Shall of joy find much increase. 



THE WINTER WIND. 

IT is the Winter Wind 
Tossing the leafless boughs about, 
Stifling the school-boy's lusty shout, 
Flinging the snow in the traveler's face, 
Quickening his good steed's easy pace. 

It is the Winter Wind 
Dashing the unlatched gate aside, 
Reaching the house with a mighty stride, 
Rattling the windows, shaking the doors, 
Taunting the fire till it raves and roars. 

It is the Winter Wind 

Rustling the silks of the haughty dame, 

Deepening her soft cheek's painted flame, 

Tangling her ringlets saucily, 

Making a mock of her dignity. 

It is the Winter Wind 

Piercing the tenement's unsound walls, 

Smiting the famished babe that crawls 

O'er the carpetless floor from its mother's bed,- 

Its mother, who lies there stark and dead. 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 273 

The Winter's .eveling wind 

Serves all alike in its pitiless raids, 

Makes no distinction 'twixt classes or grades, 

Goes where it lists on the land or the seas, 

Leaps o'er all barriers, defies all decrees 

Of monarch or law-maker. Nothing we find 

So headstrong, so reckless, so fierce as the wind. 



A CHRISTMAS TOAST. 

A MERRY Christmas, one and all, and let the wish go 
round, 
That every board may be to-day as plentifully crowned 
As this at which we now are met, a happy, social band, 
To taste the savory offerings of our God-favored land. 
Hence! Care and Sorrow, let us all be joyous while we may, 
Who knows, my friends, where we shall greet the next fair 
Christmas Day. 

Bright be the future, smooth the path our footsteps must 

pursue, 
And may the star of Hope still shine unclouded to our 

view. 
Long live dear Friendship, earth's best gem, and Love, the 

passion flower; 
Oh! may it find in every heart a warm and sheltering bower. 
Hence! Care and Sorrow, let us all be joyous while we may, 
Who knows, my friends, where we shall greet the next fair 

Christmas Day. 



274 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 



THE FAREWELL. 



AND must it be, Old Year, 
That 'neath the splendor of the stars, 
Down piercing through night's cloudy bars, 
You take your final leave 
Of hearts that sorely grieve 
To lose a friend they hold so dear 
As you, Old Year? 

Can you recall, Old Year, 

How we did run to welcome you 

With acclamations, when we knew 

Your feet were at the door ? 

We shouted, o'er and o'er, 
Come in! come in, and join our cheer, 
O glad New Year! 

Twelve months since then, Old Year, 
Have glided swiftly by, and now 
The Winter's towering drifts of snow, 

So pure, from heaven sent, 

A noble monument 
And spotless, will for you uprear, 
O brave Old Year! 



POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 

Farewell, farewell, Old Year; 

In yonder tower a solemn bell 

Is measuring out your funeral knell; 

The last beat of your heart 

Must with the sound depart. 
'Tis done. We'll hold your memory dear, 
O dead Old Year. 



275 



A DIRGE FOR THE OLD YEAR. 



TOLL, toll, O solemn bell! 
Toll, toll the funeral knell 
Of the Old Year. 
'Neath his white shroud he lies, 
And the wind moans and sighs 
Over his bier. 



Tell of his virtues rare, 
Let the swift breeze declare 

Them far and wide; 
Till every earthly clime 
Joins in a praiseful chime 

For him who died. 



276 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 

Bury his errors deep, 

In the grave let them sleep 

Lower than he. 
Charity's mantle dear, 
Wet with compassion's tear, 

Their covering be. 

What he has done of good 
Make it the wholesome food 

Of future time, 
That his successors may, 
Strengthened by it, essay 

Higher to climb. 

List! list! the solemn bell 
Tolleth the funeral knell 

Of the Old Year. 
Wintry winds moan and sigh, 
Frozen tears from the sky 

Fall on his bier. 



Lyrical Pieces. 



O BEAUTEOUS MOON! 

O BEAUTEOUS moon, whose silvery veil 
Enfolds the form of her I love, 
As, listening to the nightingale, 
She stands without yon leafy grove, 
Low whisper, for my trembling tongue 
The olden tale may not repeat, 
How my impassioned soul has flung 
Its royal scepter at her feet. 

O tender moon! O beauteous moon! 
Let thy persuasive influence move 
My darling one to yield me soon 
The precious guerdon of her love. 

Pure is thy smile, thou virgin moon, 
But purer are my loved one's dreams, 
When, hand in hand with rosy June, 
She wanders by the jeweled streams, 
Whose wavelets string their liquid gems, 
That rival not her lustrous eyes, 
To form befitting diadems 
For her, the daughter of the skies. 

O tender moon! O beauteous moon! 
Let thy persuasive influence move 
My darling one to yield me soon 
The precious guerdon of her love. 



280 LYRICAL PIECES. 



EVENING CHARMS. 

HEAR the vesper music 
Melting through the twilight, 
Whose gray shadows lengthen 
O'er day's fainting light; 
Slowly glide the zephyrs, 
For their wings are laden 
With the many sweet-voiced 
Heralds of the night. 

Sacred are these moments, 
For, with fair brow drooping, 
Beautiful and tearful, 
Nature bows in prayer; 
And her adoration, 
Rising to the Father, 
Fills with precious incense 
All the summer air. 

Lo! the night, advancing, 
Wears the silver crescent 
High upon her forehead, 
O'er her crown of stars. 
Sweet content is watching 
Earth as soft she slumbers, 
And no vengeful storm-cloud 
Beauty's picture mars 



LYRICAL PIECES. 281 

Oh! when spreads around us 

Such sublime creations, 

And our trammeled vision 

Can their glories see, 

Fearing, doubting mortals, 

Let this blest thought cheer you, — 

When earth is so honored, 

What must heaven be! 



TO A ROSE. 

TENDER rose, in beauty blooming, 
Blushing 'neath my loving kiss, 
Art thou with desire consuming 
For a better life than this ? 
Higher, higher, dost aspire ? 
Burns thy ardent soul with fire, 
E'en like hers who questions thee ? 
Lovely rose, oh, answer me! 

Crowned queen of summer flowers, 

Ah! how brief — how brief thy stay, 
Though the sunbeams, dew and showers 
Fain would woo thee to delay. 
Thou still higher dosi aspire; 
Radiant from its funeral pyre 
Mounts thy spirit to love's goal, 
Fate so blest be thine, my soul! 



282 LYRICAL PIECES. 



THE FIRST SNOW. 

SOFTLY the snow is falling, 
Light as an angel's breath, 
Hiding earth's pulseless bosom 

'Neath the white shroud of death. 
Like to a grief-struck mourner 

Droopeth the cloud-veiled sky, 
While the sad winds are grieving 
That one so fair should die. 

List! for a gentle whisper 

Comes from the star-like flakes, 
Saying, "Upon night's darkness 

A morning ever breaks. 
Unto the gloomy winter 

A smiling spring succeeds; 
Then mourn not. Earth is taking 

But the calm rest she needs. 

Soon will she wake in beauty, 

Strengthened, revived renewed, 
Crowned with her own sweet flowerets, 

With brighter charms endued. 
So shall it be with mortals, 

Dark days can last not long; 
Sorrow shall change to gladness, 

And tears merge into song." 



LYRICAL PIECES. 283 



BEAUTIFUL NORAH. 

BEAUTIFUL Norah, 
Soft bells are ringing, 
Bright birds are singing 
How I adore you; 
Breezes are murmuring, 
Flowerets are whispering, 
Hear and believe them, 
Bride of my soul. 
For they have heard me 
Bitterly sighing, 
When lay my crushed hopes 
Painfully dying; 
Kindly they tendered 
Sweet consolation, 
O'er my wild passion 
Wielding control. 

As flee night's shadows 
From earth's fringed meadows 
At the first warning 
Of the fair morning, 
So fled the storm-clouds 
Surging around me, 
At thy commanding 
Vanished they all. 



284 LYRICAL PIECES. 

Soon as thy dark eyes 
Looked on me fondly, 
And breathed thy dear lips, 
"I love thee only," 
Robed in new splendor, 
Happy and tender, 
There came my lost peace 
Back at my call. 



FLY, O WINTER. 

FLY, O Winter, fly away! 
Haste thee to thine arctic home. 
In our land no longer stay, 
Let the lovely spingtime come. 

She is all bestrewn with flowers, 

Thou art clad in icy mail; 
She doth sing of birds and bowers, 

Thou of snow and blustering gale. 

She brings hope and joy to all, 
Thou to many gloom and fear; 

Thee, when going, none recall, 
Her we pray to linger near. 

Haste, O Winter, haste away 
To thy frozen arctic home; 

For a brighter form make way, 
Let the genial springtime come. 



LYRICAL PIECES. 285 



THE BRIDEGROOM'S APPROACH. 

AWAKE from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 
The Bridegroom is coming, to meet him arise. 
He hastens with pleasure to claim his fair treasure 
And bear her away to his home in the skies. 

Awake from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 
The Bridegroom is coming with music and song; 

The love-god has sent him, and cheerfully lent him 
His soft snowy pinions to speed him along. 

Awake from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 
The Bridegroom is coming, his presence is near; 

Long, hard did he labor, proud one, for thy favor, 
But now the blest hour of fruition is here. 

Awake from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 
The Bridegroom is coming, he calleth thee now. 

So eager to meet thee, so eager to greet thee, 
And fix Hymen's seal for all time on thy brow. 

Awake from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 

The Bridegroom is coming, the crown of thy youth. 

His name lives in story; in letters of glory 
'Tis written, behold, it is Truth! it is Truth! 



2 86 LYRICAL PIECES. 



O 



CAPTURED. 

NE beauteous morning, 
Love, without warning, 

Laden with flowers, 

From Flora's bowers, 
Came to my darling, my beautiful May. 

Without suspicion, 

As to his mission, 

Pleased she received him, 

Trusted, believed him, 
Listened enraptured to all he could say. 

Sunshine and shadow 
Flecked the green meadow 
Where she went playing, 
Thoughtlessly straying 

Near to the musical, fay-haunted grove. 
Here slumber seized her; 
When he released her, 
Red roses crowned her, 
Myrtle vines bound her 

Prisoner to Hymen, the ally of Love, 



LYRICAL PIECES. 287 



FLY PRETTY BIRD. 

FLY, pretty bird, to her I love, 
And sing the song I dare not sing; 
Perchance thy strains her soul will move, 
Thou lovely messenger of Spring. 
Fly, pretty bird. 

Perchance thy music wild and sweet 
Will touch her heart, and she will sigh, 

And think of him, who at her feet 
Laid all his hopes in hours gone by. 
Fly, pretty bird. 

Oh! if she listens to thy song, 

And of my welfare questions thee, 

I charge thee, bird, delay not long, 
But with the tidings haste to me. 
Fly, pretty bird. 

But if she coldly turns away, 

And scorns thy wooing and my pain, 

Ah then! ah then! dear bird, I pray 

Come never back to me again. 

Fly, pretty bird. 



LYRICAL PIECES. 



ENOCH ARDEN UNDER THE YE^ 
TREE. 



PICTURE of happiness, 
Source of my deep distress, 

Fainting I gaze on thy beauty divine. 
Nought is now left for me, 
But to fly far from thee, 

Heaven of bliss that may no more be mine. 
Nevermore, nevermore, 
On life's storm beaten shore, 

Will my torn spirit, so weary, find rest. 
Death, hear my plaintive cry, 
Soon let this wrecked form lie, 

Under the sod that her dear feet have pressed. 



Oft, on that lonely isle, 

Hope did the time beguile 
With her bright limnings of rescue and home. 

Rescue God granted me, 

But no home waits for me, 
Save that concealed by yon star-spangled dome. 

Nevermore, nevermore, etc. 



LYRICAL PIECES. 289 

Wife, though another breast 

Pillows thy nightly rest, 
Bless thee, oh, bless thee, thou once wast mine own! 

Children — oh, agony — 

Loving Christ, strengthen me, 
I must go from them unseen and unknown. 

Nevermore, nevermore, etc. 

Faltering limbs, fail me not, 

Bear me far from this spot 
Ere my great sorrow breaks in on their mirth. 

Dear ones, again farewell, 

Long may peace with you dwell, 
Long may joy gladden your love-lighted hearth. 

Nevermore, nevermore, etc. 



SUMMER EVENING. 

TENDERLY the moon is beaming, 
Flooding earth in waves of light; 
Peacefully the world is dreaming 
Varied dreams of bliss to-night. 
Out upon the placid river 

Floats a vapor, white and chill, 
And the air is all a-quiver 

With the wild cry, whip-poor-will! 



29O LYRICAL PIECES. 

Starry clusters sing in chorus 

Songs our souls alone can hear, 
While a holy calm steals o'er us. 

And an awe that is not fear. 
For we trust in Him who gave us 

All the beautiful in life; 
Soon His Summer eve will save us 

From our earthly pain and strife. 



SONG OF PROGRESS. 



I COME! I come to free the world 
From sin and pain and gloomy sorrow. 
My banner's to the breeze unfurled, 
I'll work to-day, I'll rest tomorrow. 
I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
For Progress cannot brook delay. 

To-day is God's, and yours, and mine; 

To-morrow is a cheat — remember. 
Let us be moving; light divine 

Now flashes from life's glowing ember. 
I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
For Progress cannot brook delay. 



LYRICAL PIECES. 291 

Let selfish tyrants tremble now, 

And cease their practices unholy: 
I am Oppression's stalwart foe; 

I am the champion of the lowly. 
I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
For Progress cannot brook delay. 

My mission is a lofty one; 

Death, Darkness, Error fly before me. 
I am the spiritual sun 

That lights the universe to glory. 
I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
For Progress cannot brook delay. 

I come! I come! Who joins with me 
Shall wear the Victor's crown supernal; 

Who stands aloof will fail to see 
The treasures of the life eternal. 

I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
For Progress cannot brook delay. 



292 LYRICAL PIECES. 



THE THREE RIVALS. 

THE Morning shakes from her finger tips 
The clinging pearls of night 
And wreathes with smiles her fresh young lips 

To welcome the god of light. 
He comes! he comes o'er the mountain's brow; 

'Twas a weary height to climb; 
And his face is flushed with the haste he makes 
To hold his own with Time. 

He clasps the Morn in his great strong arms, 

And kisses, but leaves her soon 
To ardently gaze on the Juno charms 

Of the stately matron, Noon. 
Then he speeds away to the sad-browed Eve, 

To woo her in wanton play; 
But she veils her face in a darkening frown, 

And waves the truant away. 



LYRICAL PIECES. 293 



SONG. 



LOVE, when sounds the vesper chorus, 
And, from starry windows bright, 
Angels scatter dewdrops o'er us 
From the fount of light; 
Come kneel with me in adoration 

Of the great Power that gave us life; 
Pray for our souls' quick restoration 
Unto their home, with beauty rife. 

Earthly joys are vain and fleeting, 
Leaving no sweet peace behind, 
Only love's ecstatic greeting 
Charms the restless mind. 
But in that land to which we're going, 

In the blessed by and by, 
No chilling winds, adversely blowing, 
Our hope's fruition shall deny. 



294 LYRICAL PIECES. 



RETURN ONCE MORE. 

THE moonlight floods the rustic bower 
Where we so oft have met, 
And shimmers o'er the lonely flower 

You said you'd ne'er forget ; 
Your Rose, who harshly bade you go 

Forever from her door, 
And thought she'd ne'er regret — but, oh! 
Return, return once more. 

The small offence that vexed my soul, 

And steeled awhile my heart, 
Is pardoned, and I'd fain recall 

That cruel word — depart. 
I wished it ere your footstep's sound 

Had died upon the floor, 
Since when my soul no peace has found,- 

Return, return once more. 



LYRICAL PIECES. 295 



EVENING VESPERS. 

DEAREST, it is evening vespers, 
And the soft bells' distant chime 
Brings to me, in thrilling whispers, 

Memories of thy love divine. 
Floating, floating, nearer, nearer, 

Comes that heaven-hallowed strain, 
And the air grows purer, clearer, 
And my sad heart glad again. 

Hark! the weird chant, louder swelling, 

Storms the moonlit halls of space, 
Silence from his throne expelling, 

Music grand usurps his place. 
Now my soul, all fetters spurning, 

Mounts the car of harmony, 
And, attracted by the yearning 

Of thy spirit, hastes to thee. 

O mine own be true, and never 

Doubt the fervor of my love, 
For it calls around thee ever 

Strong protection from above. 
Little know'st thou how it lingers 

In thy presence day and night, 
Pointing thee with unseen fingers 

To the realms of pure delight. 



296 LYRICAL PIECES. 



BEAUTIFUL JUNE. 

JUNE, with thy red lips wreathed in a smile, 
Kissing the flowerets thou tendest the while, 
June, with life's sunshine flooding thy heart, 
None from thy presence could wish to depart. 
O regal June! O peerless June; 
Queen of the roses, beautiful June; 
Beautiful, beautiful June. 

June, the winged minstrels, trusting in thee, 
Call their young fledgelings from hedge-row and tree, 
Fearless of frost or the North wind's chill breath; 
Cherish thou kindly their innocent faith. 

O noble June! O glad-souled June! 

Queen of the roses, beautiful June; 

Beautiful, beautiful June. 

June, while thou rovest, happy and gay, 
Scattering the buds of delight on thy way, 
Sing to our hearts of that future divine, 
Warmed by a love-light still purer than thine. 

O smiling June! O golden June! 

Queen of the roses, beautiful June; 

Beautiful, beautiful June. 



LYRICAL PIECES. 297 



GREETING SONG. 



AGAIN we greet you, gentle friends, 
With smiles of welcome, words of love; 
Again our tuneful voices blend 

In strains whose power all hearts shall move. 
We welcome you with songs of joy, 

Old friends, dear friends, long tried and true, 
May bliss be yours without alloy, 

And fragrant flowers your pathway strew. 

The fairest jewel in Life's crown 
Is friendship, and its lustre, bright 

As stars that from yon sky look down, 
Floods all our happy hearts to-night. 
We welcome you, etc. 

Smile kindly on us now, and, oh! 

What e'er befalls our future lot 
Of pain or pleasure, joy or woe, 

Be these blest moments ne'er forgot. 
We welcome you with songs of joy, 

Old friends, dear friends, long tried and true, 
May bliss be yours without alloy, 

And fragrant flowers your pathway strew 



298 LYRICAL PIECES. 



LAUGHING SONG AND CHORUS. 

(with echo). 



H 



A, ha, ha! Hear merry laughter 
Raising up the very rafter, 
While the startled flocks of swallows from the chimney fly, 
Wondering what the mischief's brewin', 
If the spirit of mad ruin 
Lurks in ambush nigh. 

Ha, ha, ha, ha! This is jolly! 

That 'tis folly we deny. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 
We must laugh or die. 

Ha, ha, ha! 

We must laugh or die. 

Ha, ha, ha! We'll drive dull sorrow 
From to-day and from to-morrow; 
Laughter holds 'tis rarest fun this using up the blues. 
And, whatever cares may bore us, 
We must join the laughing chorus, 
None can long refuse. 

Ha, ha, ha, ha! This is jolly! 

That 'tis folly we deny. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 
We must laugh or die. 

Ha, ha, ha! 

We must laugh or die. 



LYRICAL PIECES. 299 



ONWARD TO VICTORY. 

THE God whom we worship, behold him, O World, 
It is Truth, it is glorious Truth! 
His beautiful flag, by the free winds unfurled, 

Is borne in the strong arms of Youth. 
Then forward, brave hearts, let the tramp of your feet 

Awaken the echoes of Time; 
Till mountain to mountain shall loudly repeat 
The tale of our progress sublime. 

To Victory onward. Who enters the van 

Must know no such word as retreat; 
We are but fulfilling great Destiny's plan, 

And therefore may laugh at defeat. 

Then forward, brave hearts, etc. 

Though dangers beset us let none be unnerved 

Whose souls are to duty inclined; 
The Future has crowns for the faithful reserved, 

And bliss for the God-loving mind. 
Then forward, brave hearts, let the tramp of your feet 

Awaken the echoes of Time; 
Till mountain to mountain shall loudly repeat 

The tale of our progress sublime. 



Devotional Poems. 



OUR COMFORTER. 

O BEAUTIFUL Christ Spirit! 
Pure essence of compassion, 
We come to thee for comfort, 
In all our tribulations. 
We come to thee for comfort, 
Well knowing thou hast proven 
The trials and temptations 
And sufferings that assail us. 
Well knowing thou hast proven 
How weak is human nature, 
How easily o'ermastered 
By selfishness and passion. 

O beautiful Christ Spirit! 
With confidence unshaken, 
Amid the wreck of doctrines, 
We rest upon thy bosom. 
For mid the wreck of doctrines 
And changing forms of matter, 
Secure on Truth's foundations 
O soul of Truth, thou standest. 
And on Truth's sure foundations, 
Though all else fade and perish, 
We'll find with thee a refuge 
Forever and forever. 



304 DEVOTIONAL 50EMS. 



EXCERPT FROM -THE LAST OF HER 
RACE." 

My child, be comforted. 
Although we may not with our earthly eyes 
Discern the Soul's condition after death, 
This much we know, that God is everywhere, 
And the Christ Spirit, being a part of God, 
Moves with him through all space, and folds his arms 
Of love around all creatures. They, whose nerves 
Are sensitive, whose minds are free from guile, 
Feel the pulsations of His loving heart 
So blended with their own that hardly they 
Can tell the difference; so that oft their will 
Is merged in His will, and they do his work 
While thinking they but do their own. 

I hold that in the happier future state 

Mercy is mercy still, and love is love, 

And Christ is Christ, and cannot change His name, 

Still less His nature; therefore may the poor, 

Unshriven outcasts from this lower sphere 

Purchase with penitence a pardon there. 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 305 



THE IMPERISHABLE TREE. 

THERE is a tree whose leaves are green, 
Are green and fresh the whole year round; 
No fairer mortal eyes have seen, 
No statelier rises from the ground. 

Its roots draw nourishment from earth, 
Its higher branches reach to heaven, 

Whose angels recognize its worth, 
And tend it gladly morn and even. 

They bathe it oft in copious streams, 

From the unfailing fount above, 
And deck it o'er with broken gleams, 

Warm from the fervent fires of love. 

Denser and broader, day by day, 
It grows, this wonder-bearing tree! 

While, sheltered by its foliage, play 
And sing the birds right merrily. 

By inspiration taught they chant 
Of sunnier days and happier hours, 

When plenty shall o'erbalance want, 

And hope's young buds be changed to flowers. 



306 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 

What name was given that glorious tree, 
Which proudly triumphs over death ? 

Which angels tend so lovingly ? 
Behold, it is the tree of Faith! 



INSTABILITY. 

WHEN sunshine gleams and clouds retreat, 
Our hearts beat high with hope and joy 
We say, O life, how blest art thou! 
But ah, our faithless heads we bow, 
And doubts our summer dreams destroy 
When clouds prevail and sunbeams fleet. 

When sunshine gleams and clouds retreat, 
We know our Father watches o'er 
Our lives with tender, helpful care. 
But ah, we grow too sad for prayer; 
We moan, " He cares for us no more! " 
When clouds prevail and sunbeams fleet. 

When sunshine gleams and clouds retreat, 
We know His hand has swept the sky; 
We gladly feel He is not far. 
Oh feeble-minded that we are! 
Why feel we not He draws more nigh, 
When clouds prevail and sunbeams fleet. 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 307 



BLESS THE POOR. 

BLESS the poor and patient workers, 
God of Justice, bless the poor, 
Who so earnestly are toiling 

Independence to secure. 
Oft repugnant to their natures 

Is our worldly charity, 
They would be indebted only 
For all needful things to Thee. 

Bless the poor, whose hearts are yearning 

O'er their growing little ones, 
While they call on Thee to make them 

Virtuous daughters, noble sons. 
Though their feet are heavy laden 

With the mire of poverty, 
Thou canst give them wings to lift them 

Nearer, God of Truth, to Thee. 

Bless the poor, whose warm affections 

Soothe the tortured sufferer's pain; 
May their prayers for Thy assistance, 

Father, ne'er be raised in vain. 
Shower on them thy choicest blessings, 

That their souls may shout with glee 
As they climb life's mystic stairway, 

Nearer, God of Love, to Thee. 



308 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



LOST IN THE SNOW. 



MOONBEAMS, clasp the shades of night 
In your holy, chaste embrace. 
Stars, spill down your liquid light 
O'er this darksome place. 



Friends and kindred all are gone, 
Buried these huge drifts below. 

I am left alone, alone, 
In a world of snow. 

Snow beneath, around, above, 
Hiding every friendly track; 

Leaving nought, O God of love, 
Nought to guide me back. 

Yet I do not murmur; no, 
I would be content to die 

If through this white mist of snow 
I could see the sky. 

If through this dense cloud of snow 
I could see Heaven's starry gate, 

All enraptured I would bow, 
And accept my fate. 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 309 

But to sigh my life away 

In this lonely snow-girt tomb, 
Drowned in darkness — Father, say, 

Must this be my doom ? 

Fainter beats my weary heart 

While the snow piles on my breast, 

Oh! that yon locked clouds would part 
Ere I sink to rest. 

Heaven be thanked! they do, they do, 

And I see the angel eyes 
Peering through the matchless blue 

Of the holy skies. 

Soul rejoice! thy wings unfurl; 

Cast thy earth-robes all aside. 
Lo! for thee the gates of pearl 

Now are opened wide. 



310 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



PRAY. 



OH when thy heart grows hard, my friend, 
Look up and pray to God 
That He will some bright angel send 
Down from His blest abode, 

To wake thy sleeping faith and show 
All that they needy soul should know. 

Oh think not thou wilt ask in vain! 
O'er thee from heavenly bowers 
Blessings shall fall like summer rain 
Upon earth's fainting flowers; 

And thou shalt find a rich increase 
Of love and hope and joy and peace. 



THOU GIVEST US SHELTER. 

OUR Father, Thou dost shelter lovingly 
All soul- sick mortals, all who have been stung 
By the fierce hornets of Adversity, 
All who are fleeing from the monster Sin, 
All who are striving to attain the height, — 
The flower-crowned height, where sits immortal Virtue 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



TO MY FRIENDS IN AIDENN. 

DEAR spirit arms which clasp my form 
So tenderly, 
Dear spirit love so true and warm 
Enfolding me; 

Dear spirit eyes whose glances burn 

Away despair, 
Dear spirit thoughts which ever turn 

My thoughts to prayer; 

Oh what would be existence worth 

If you were not ? 
If life were all confined to earth, 

This tiny spot, — 

This atom in immensity ? 

Thank God! thank God! 
That wider realms by us may be 

In freedom trod; 

That in the fair, supernal spheres, 

Awaiting all 
Who strive for goodness, sorrowing tears 

Shall cease to fall. 



312 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



I TRUST, MY GOD, IN THEE. 

WHEN around my being gather 
Darkest shades of pain and sorrow, 
Know I well, O loving Father! 

Thou wilt drive them hence to-morrow. 
Father, still I trust in thee, 
Still, my God, I trust in Thee. 

When my soul faints at the vision 

Of its labors uncompleted, 
Feels unequal to its mission, 

Mourns its efforts all defeated, 
Father, still I trust in thee, 

Still, my God, I trust in Thee. 

Faith assures me Thou art leading 

All thy children to perfection 
Through life's devious ways, and feeding 

All with Thy divine affection. 
This is why I trust in Thee, 
Still, my God, I trust in Thee 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 313 



OUR CHILDREN. 

PERMIT us, O our Father! 
With thankful hearts to offer Thee 
The incense which we gather 

From flowerets of humanity; 
From tiny buds Thy hand has scattered 

Along the thorny path we tread, 
Which sorrow oft with tears has watered, 
And joy with sunny beams has fed. 

The little ones about us, 

So innocent, so free from guile, 
Who never coldly doubt us, 

But fondly trust us all the while. 
Alas for us if all their places 

Were vacant and their voices stilled! 
How we should miss their happy faces, 

And mourn o'er parents arms unfilled. 

For all we cherish dearly, 

For all the things of life that please, 
We thank Thee, how sincerely, 

But thank Thee most of all for these; 
For these, the baby hands, that lead us 

From selfishness to charity, 
That in their infant weakness need us 

As we, O God, have need of Thee! 



314 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



GOD EVERYWHERE. 



OH SAY not God is far from us withdrawn! 
He greets us through His creatures, hour by hour 
Ay, every moment do we meet a word, 
A look, a sign, an action meaning fraught; 
Oh say not thou He is from us withdrawn. 

He smiles upon us from all beauteous things; 
He whispers love in all melodious tones; 
He folds us in His arms, and then we dream 
Sweet dreams of bliss. O friend, confess with me 
Our God, our Father still abides with us. 

Thou art so dear to me. Is't not because 
Thy being is all redolent of Him ? 
His creatures are so many sacred shrines, 
Whose incense-breathing flames perfume the air 
With odorous praise, and love, and gratitude. 

Proofs of His care are seeming chastisements; 
He prunes with skillful hand the soaring mind 
That it may bear the richest, noblest fruits. 
Oh let us, though our bruised affections bleed, 
Doubt not our Father still abides with us. 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 315 



DESPAIR NOT. 

LONELY heart, in mourning draped, 
Tell the Father all thy sorrow; 
He will give thee consolation 
For the morrow. 

He, the tender, helpful friend, 
Constant in His love forever, 

Though all others fly our presence 
Leaves us never. 

All in pity, not in wrath, 

Looks He on our wayward errors, 
While He frees the trembling conscience 

From its terrors. 

Well He knows we shall attain 

Sometime wisdom's high condition, 

Where to serve Him will, henceforward, 
B^ our mission. 

None so weak are but may climb, 
By His aid, the paths ascending 

Into Heaven, where joys celestial 
Have no ending. 



316 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



LIFT US HIGHER. 



LIFT us, God of nature, lift us 
Nearer, nearer unto Thee. 
Gift us, Friend of mortals, gift us 

With the power of prophecy. 
That we may to one another 

Swift unfold Thy grand designs, 
Till each sister and each brother 
Learns to read aright the signs. 

Daily do we bless Thee, Father, 

For the wondrous boon of thought, 
By whose aid our spirits gather 

Truths with useful knowledge fraught; 
Truths which tell of our relations 

To Thy subjects everywhere, 
Of the brotherhood of nations, 

Who alike Thy bounty share. 

Ah! the chain of union binds us 

To the weed we trample on, 
And to yon proud sun that blinds us 

With the splendors of his throne. 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 

Like to mirrors are our natures; 

When we look in them we see 
The reflection of Thy features, 

Omnipresent Deity. 



Lift us higher, Father, higher; 

Thus we pray by day and night. 
We would fain be drawing nigher 

To that blessed mountain's height, 
Where Peace sits with virtue ever 

Clasping hands with Truth and Love; 
Quickly all our bonds dissever, 

Lead us to our home above. 



3i7 



LONGING FOR THE ETERNAL. 



OH for the time when I shall lie 
With folded hands and fast closed eye, 
And pulseless heart, that ne'er again 
Shall throb with passion or with pain. 
Dear Father, let it not be long; 
I pine to join the immortal throng; 
Weary of earth, my spirit sighs 
For quiet rest beyond the skies. 



318 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 

Thine is the master hand that wrought 
The vast machinery of thought, 
That built the temple of my brain, 
Where yet my spirit dwells in pain. 
For earth can never satisfy 
The soul that still with watchful eye 
And beating wings impatient waits 
The opening of the golden gates. 

In those bright regions far above, 
Warmed by the sunshine of Thy love, 
Soon will Thy child forget the strife, 
The sorrows of her trial life. 
Meantime she waits, with hope and faith, 
The coming of the angel Death; 
Glad by his hand released to flee, 
Father, to Thee, upward to Thee. 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 319 



I FIND REST IN THEE. 

WHEN my heart grows faint and weary 
'Neath the heavy load of life, 
When I fain would flee forever 

From the turmoil and the strife 
Of the world, when, peace destroying, 

The wild hosts of discord tread, 
On Thy bosom, Heavenly Father, 
Do I rest my weary head. 

When Light folds her shining pinions 

And the Darkness draweth near, 
Bringing in her train the phantoms 

Doubt, despair, unreasoning fear; 
When existance holds before me 

Sorrow's cup o'erbrimmed with woes, 
In Thy arms, O pitying Father, 

Does my spirit seek repose. 

Thou alone, O tender Parent 

Of the erring and the weak, 
Thou alone canst soothe our 'plaining, 

Thee we never vainly seek. 
Thou'rt so patient, loving, constant, 

That the weary and distressed 
Still may find, oh blessed fortune! 

In Thy soul eternal rest. 



320 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



ROLL ON, O WORLD. 

ROLL on, roll on, O laboring world' 
Speed onward to thy destined goal; 
Nor fear to run thy unknown course, 
For love and truth are over all. 

Without us God were incomplete; 

He needs us, we are part of Him. 
We long have tracked His guiding feet 

Through midnight gloom and twilight dim. 

His glory is around us, but 

His fingers press our eyelids down, 

Lest we be dazzled overmuch, 
Until that we are stronger grown. 

He knows how yearned each panting breast 
O life, O love, O heaven, for thee! 

Now like a fledgeling from its nest 
We wing our way to liberty. 



Early Poems 



THE BRIDAL. 

O CHILDREN of this glorious age, 
Rouse from your lethargy of mind 
And write on History's sacred page 
That Justice is no longer blind! 

No longer blind. Jehovah pressed 
His fingers on her sightless eyes, 

And she beheld with glad surprise 

The worlds in bridal garments dressed. 

"What meaneth this display ?" she said. 
He answered, " ' Tis to show, forsooth, 
Their joy because I thee have wed 
Unto the mighty angel Truth. 

No nobler help-meet could I find 
For thee, my long-neglected child, 

My beautiful, my undefiled; 

Henceforth your lives shall be entwined. 

And you shall Falsehood overthrow, 
And drive Oppression from his throne 

And teach the down-crushed slave to know 
What is his master's, what his own. 



324 EARLY POEMS. 

O children of this age sublime, 
Rejoice, for Justice sees the light, 

And Victory shall crown the Right 
Sole monarch of all future time. 



LENORE. 



PRETTY eyes, so soon to close 
In the mystic sleep of death, 
Lovely cheeks that shame the rose, 
Lips that yield a sweeter breath. 
Can it be, oh, can it be 

Sweet Lenore, dear Lenore, 
That you'll rove with Love and me 
Nevermore! 



Ah! I knew you were too pure 
For this sinful world of ours; 
And this year they say, " Be sure 
She will perish with the flowers." 
Must you leave us with the flowers, 

Sweet Lenore, dear Lenore, 
To revisit our loved bowers 
Nevermore ? 



EARLY POEMS. 

Dearest, could wild sorrow kill 

I should die before thee now. 
O my darling! were't His will 
Gladly would I with thee go. 
But ere long I'll follow thee 

To yon heaven, dear Lenore, 
Where we'll part in agony 
Nevermore. 



DEAR MAY, ADIEU. 

JOY'S sunny hours have warmed us, 
And brightened many a day, 
Since first you owned with blushes 

You loved me, gentle May. 
We feared not then the future, 

The present was so blest. 
We reveled in its pleasures, 
And left to time the rest. 
Now we awhile must sever, 

But, love, you will be true. 
One kiss, and then — oh, sorrow! 
Dear May, dear May, adieu. 

The young flowers of my heart, dear, 

I leave behind with you. 
Oh shed upon their leaflets 

Affection's freshening dew. 



-5 



326 EARLY POEMS. 

Still cherish them with kindness, 
That they may not decay, 

But strengthen into beauty 
While I am far away. 

Now we awhile must sever, etc. 

Give me your pictured image 

To feed my longing eyes, 
In lonely hours of sadness, 

When distance 'tween us lies. 
And yet, why should I crave it, 

When love, with matchless art, 
That blooming face before me 

Has graven on my heart. 
Now we awhile must sever, etc. 



EARLY POEMS. 327 



FADING. 



FADING, fading from my sight, 
Week by week, and day by day, 
Goest thou, my heart's delight, 
From the busy world away. 

Stay thee, stay thee, dear, I pray thee, 

Till my heart be broken quite; 
Not before me, I implore thee, 
Enter Heaven's blessed light. 

Then we'll reach the bower of love, 

By the stairway of the stars, 
There to rest, my weary dove, 
Undisturbed by earthly jars. 
Farewell sorrow, for to-morrow 

We shall 'mong the angels move; 
There forever, never, never- 
More in separate paths to rove. 



328 EARLY POEMS. 



LIVE YE WELL. 

FROM the peaceful realms above us 
Where the white robed angels dwell 
Come sweet tones from those who love us 

Breathing softly, " Live ye well." 
Live ye well, oh, live ye well! 
'Tis the burden of the song, 
Echoing our dreams among, 
Live, oh, live, live well. 

Live ye well, for every action 
Is a seed from which shall spring 

Memories, that by attraction 
Will to you for ages cling. 

Live ye well, oh, live ye well! etc. 

Live ye well, for sin can never 
Pass the shining gates of Heaven, 

And your souls must suffer ever 
Till you have yourselves forgiven. 
Live ye well, oh, live ye well! etc. 

Live ye well, and we will aid you 

In the struggle for the right, 
Live ye well, that He who made you 

May enfold you in His light. 



EARLY POEMS. 



3 2 9 



Live ye well, oh, live ye well! 

Tis the burden of the song, 
Echoing our dreams among, 

Live, oh, live ye well. 



TO A CHILD. 



CHILD, remember, angel friends, 
Hover near thee everywhere, 
To the earth's remotest ends. 

Should thy wandering feet repair, 
Think not thou wouldst be alone; 

Arms thy vision fails to see 
Would be fondly round thee thrown, 
Guiding and supporting thee. 



O'er life's quagmires they will lift, 

Tenderly thy helpless form; 
They'll ne'er let thy soul adrift 

To be wrecked amid the storm. 
They will mitigate the pain 

When misfortunes on thee fall; 
They will bring thee back again 

Peace and joy to make thee whole. 



330 EARLY POEMS. 

Let thy loving thoughts ascend, 

Child, to them by night and day, 
Who unseen thy steps attend 

Smoothing still life's rugged way. 
Thou shouldst ever grateful be 

To the friends whom God has given, 
From sin's toils to set thee free, 

And attend thy soul to Heaven. 



THE BLIND GIRL TO HER BIRD 



BIRDIE, birdie, sing for me; 
Sing for me, dear birdie, pray. 
Time goes on so wearily 

Since my sight was ta'en away. 

Birdie, if 'twere not for you 

I should scarce know day from night; 
You're my time-piece, kind and true, 

Telling me when it is light. 

When you sing I think of Heaven, 
Where the blessed angels stay, 

Where have gone my sisters seven, 
Where I too shall go some day. 



EARLY POEMS. 331 

Children visit me and bring 

Fruits and flowers of fragrance rare, 

Tell me stories, laugh and sing, 
Braid and curl my flowing hair. 

And I think, dear birdie, oft, 

If I could for one hour see 
Their young faces, warm and soft, 

Oh how happy I should be! 

Sing, sing on, my pretty pet, 

Pour your sweet notes on the wind; 

Music charms me to forget, 
For awhile, that I am blind. 



THE BEGGAR'S BLESSING. 

O MOTHER! I saw in the town, to-day, 
A beggar, wrinkled, and thin, and old. 
The snow-flakes matted his beard so grey, 
And his face was purple, and pinched with cold. 

No warm hat covered his poor, bald head, 
But only a battered and crownless brim, 

And his clothes were scanty, and hung in shreds, 
That flapped in the breeze, round each palsied limb. 



332 EARLY POEMS. 

Nothing he said as he walked the street 
To those who carelessly passed him by; 

But one could see that his need was great 
By his pitiful look, and pleading eye. 

I watched until he sat him down 

On the steps of a mansion, large and grand, 
One of the handsomest in the town, 

And leaned his cheek on his bony hand. 

Presently out through the great door stept 
The owner, swinging a shining cane, 

And a chilling terror over me crept, 
For his face with anger was all aflame. 

" What do you here ? " he roughly said 

To the aged sufferer at his feet, 
Who answered, " I've nowhere to lay my head, 

No fire to warm me, no food to eat. 

Long I scorned to beg, but at last am driven 
By clamorous famine to your door. 

Then oh, as you hope for rest in Heaven, 
Give me a crust — I ask no more." 



O mother! I shudder to tell the tale, 
How the cruel owner, with curses, then 

Struck the poor man over his cheek so pale, 
And pushed him out in the street again. 



EARLY POEMS. T,S3 

I stood a moment in blank amaze, 

And then more swift than a bird I flew, 
And in the beggar's cold hand placed 

The dollar I had this morning from you. 

He looked at it, and looked at me, 

While the tear-drops burst from his time-dimmed eyes, 
Then touched my forehead, and silently 

Invoked a blessing from yonder skies. 

Invoked a blessing on me and mine, 

And, mother, I know his prayer was heard, 

For my vision was crossed with a light divine, 
And my soul to its lowest depths was stirred. 

We parted. He hastened to purchase bread, 

While I ran home with a lightened heart, 
For, mother, the blessing the beggar laid 

On my life, forever will peace impart. 



334 EARLY POEMS. 



THE CHILD TO THE BIRD. 

DAINTY little song-bird, 
Sitting on the bough, 
Think not I would harm thee,— 

Harm thee birdie ? No. 
I have come to gather 
All the pearly notes 
Scattered by thy music 
As through air it floats. 

Charming little song-bird, 

Sitting on the tree, 
Not one pretty feather 

Shall be hurt by me. 
I but come to listen 

To thy thrilling song; 
How the wild strains echo 

Yonder hills among. 

Happy little song-bird, 

Sitting on the bough, 
May the angels keep me 

Innocent as now. 
Till like thee my spirit 

Spreads its wings to rise 
To the home of Freedom 

In the azure skies. 



EARLY POEMS. 



THE BIRD TO THE CHILD. 

CHILD, I do not fear thee, 
For thy heart is kind, 
And no thought of evil 

Lurks within thy mind; 
Like a fragrant lily 

Opening to the light, 

Art thou, child of nature, 

Beautiful and bright. 

Child, in peace together 

Thou and I will sing; 
Far through yon blue ether 

Shall our voices ring, 
Till the music-loving 

Spirits gather near, 
Bringing gifts celestial 

From their happy sphere. 

Gentle one, I pray thee, 

Keep thy soul alway 
Glowing and transparent 

Like this summer day. 
Then though clouds may gather, 

Fear not, child, nor care, 
They will leave no shadow 

Darkly brooding there. 



335 



330 EARLY POEMS. 



THE DISCLOSURE. 



O SISTER, can you guess, dear, what they told me 
Before you came ? 
You know how long I've lain here, sick and helpless, 
Deformed and lame ? 

Well, I shall soon be better. Sister, darling, 

Give me your hand; 
A great Physician comes, whose name is famous 

Throughout the land. 

He may arrive this very night. I tremble 

With joy, with joy, 
To think that He will stoop to heal and comfort 

A poor lame boy. 

Soon as He touches me and breathes upon me 

I shall grow strong 
And active as your bird, that hops and warbles 

The whole day long. 

But, sister, I must go with Him. He'll take me 

To His own home, 
Where, when your education is completed, 

You, too, may come. 



EARLY POEMS. 337 

Now do you understand me, dear ? My meaning 

Is this: I go 
Where our loved mother went one sunny morning 

Not long ago. 

Oh, do not weep! Though you may not perceive me, 

I'll visit you 
Each day to cheer, to counsel and protect you 

Life's journey through. 

Your hand in mine, your dear, dear face beside me, 

I wait in peace 
The coming of the moment that shall witness 

My soul's release. 



OUR HOUSEHOLD DARLING. 

OUR household darling, I see her now, 
With bright curls wreathing her sunny brow, 
And eyes affording a glimpse of heaven 
Clearer than dreams have ever given; 
And lips, the favorite abode of bliss, 
Deeply dyed with a rose's kiss, 
Where roguish smiles play hide and seek 
With dimples lurking about her cheek. 



338 EARLY POEMS. 

Our household darling, I see her now, 
With an angel's chaplet upon her brow. 
She treads no more with mortal feet 
The pavement of the busy street; 
She twines no more with fleshly hands 
About our forms earth's floral bands, 
But on the spirit shore I see 
Our household darling awaiting me. 



HESITANCY. 



O speak! O speak! 
Why should thy lips be dumb, when pleadingly 
Love beckons from the windows of thine eyes, 
And from thy soul's secluded altars rise 
Hot flames, that brand thy secret visibly 
On either cheek ? 



What dost thou fear ? 
To fail ? Be sure Success will never pause 
To aid thee if thy feet no effort make 
To reach the goal. Arouse thee, for her sake 
O'er power Delay and Doubt, the deadliest foes 
She numbers here. 



EARLY POEMS. 339 

Speak, speak, oh speak! 
The word that trembles on thy unused tongue 
May be the key to unlock for us Joy's gates, 
The key to solve the problem of our fates, 
So far asunder cast when we were young; 
Then speak, oh, speak! 



I FLIRTED BUT TO TEASE. 

I SAW his longing eyes were turned 
Upon me where I sat 
With Tom, and Dick, and Valentine, 

Engaged in social chat. 
Those eyes kept whispering to my heart, 

'Come, Nellie, leave them, please.' 
I only stayed the longer, yet 
I flirted but to tease. 

I saw him rise and pace the floor 

With quick, impatient tread, 
When Tom's mischievous fingers snatched 

The rosebud from my head. 
I frowned on Tom, who only laughed 

And ate the crimson flower, 
The rose he gave, whose love I lost 

Forever in that hour. 



340 EARLY POEMS. 

He left the room. I smiled, and thought, 

Ere long he will return. 
I dreamed not of the lesson drear 

My spirit had to learn. 
I rose to go; Tom held me back; 

I sternly bade him cease, 
And told the group, with careless air, 

I flirted but to tease. 

The guests departed, one by one, 

Till I alone was left; 
Then first the fingers of a dread 

My heart-strings rudely swept — 
A dread that in the after days 

Changed into cruel pain, 
For o'er the threshold of my door 

He never passed again. 

The years dragged by, the lonely years 

Led on by grief and care, 
And resignation took the place 

Of passionate despair. 
But still, at every evening's close, 

Stern memory will not cease 
To tax me with rnv folly when 

I flirted but to tease. 



EARLY POEMS. 



34 



IN MEMORIAM. 



INTO the golden light, 
Where dwell the angels bright, 
Near to God's throne, 

Guided by Innocence, 
Our boy has gone; 

Faith and Love bore him hence, 
Our treasured one. 

Far from sin-lurking snares, 
Far from earth's woes and cares 
He has been led, 

Led by fair Purity. 
Time's book unread, — 

Into eternity; 
He is not dead. 

When all our work is done 
Here, and life's setting sun 
Tinges the West, 

He who has gone before, 
Unto his rest, 

Smiling, will ope the door 
At Love's request. 



342 EARLY POEMS. 



THE KANSAS MOTHER. 

YOU never chanced to hear about my Johnny ? 
Why, stranger, half the world has heard about him, 
And wondered how I've learned to do without him, 
He was so good, so blythesome and so bonny. 

The whole account was printed in the papers — 
Both of the papers published in our village — 
How, when the border ruffians came to pillage, 

He and his comrades made them stop their capers. 

You see he'd faith, the true sort, that whenever 
The hand was willing God would rightly use it; 
And so when risk appeared he'd ne'er refuse it 

But let his arm do service as a lever 

To raise up Freedom to her rightful station. 
Well! it was broken in the work, and weary 
With toil, and hardship, and confinement dreary, 

He died and left his blessing to the Nation. 

The tears will come, though I am proud while telling. 

He was my son, my precious child and only. 

Now stranger, I'm a widow, poor and lonely, 
But welcome as the day to this log dwelling 



EARLY POEMS. 343 

Are all blue-coated boys, the brave defenders 

Of what he fought and bled for. When I meet them 
I think of him, and like a mother greet them. 

Ah! many such as he may Heaven send us. 



OUR MOTTO. 



INNOCENT childhood, 
Beautiful youth, 
Fling to the free winds 
The banner of Truth. 
And let your motto be: 
Love to Humanity! 
Let your bright motto be: 
Love to Humanity! 



Rally around it, 

Guard it with care, 

Never yet floated 

A banner so fair. 

Send it o'er land and sea, 

Herald of Destiny, 

All should your motto see: 

Love to Humanity! 



344 EARLY POEMS. 

'Tis charity's motto, 
Favored of God, 
Long in her footsteps 
Angels have trod, 
Bringing, so tenderly, 
Love to Humanity! 
Bringing, so joyfully, 
Love to Humanity! 

Onward, press onward, 
Light is before, 
Darkness behind you, 
Falter no more. 
Raise high your banner free, 
Soldier of Liberty, 
Let all your motto see: 
Love to Humanity! 



THE HUMAN SOUL. 

THE human soul is a wind-harp, over whose strings 
wanders the breath of life, drawing from them sounds, 
now soft and low as a lover's sighs, now wild and mournful 
as the wailings of Boreas among winter's leafless trees, and 
now joyous and exultant as the songs of happy angels 
around the throne of the Eternal. 



EARLY POEMS. 345 



SLANDER. 



FROM the morasses of the human mind 
A venemous reptile, foul with loathsome slime, 
Crawls when night's darkness overspreads the sky. 
Impelled by an insatiate appetite, 
It seeks the couch of dreaming Innocence, 
To feed upon the crimson blood that bursts 
In bright impetuous torrents from her heart 
And makes its way in countless rivulets 
Even to her limbs' remote extremities. 



The reptile's venomed bite quick penetrates 
The yielding flesh, and through the delicate veins 
The poison hasteneth, pursued by pain, 
'Till every fibre of the sleeper's frame 
Quivers with anguish, and she wakes to find 
Her flowery life-path all bestrewn with thorns, 
Her sole companion gloomy suffering. 

Th.s crawling thing — this reptile hideous 
Beyond description — bears the simple name 
Of Slander; easy it may seem to speak, 
But angels tremble when they utter it. 



346 EARLY POEMS. 

And oft the soul of love within them weeps 
And agonizes sorely when they see 
Their protegees, arrayed in mortal garb, 
Secretly fostering this bane of life. 

Oh for some Hercules endowed with power 
To strangle this vile serpent, and relieve 
The world of all the misery it creates! 



THOU ASKEST WHY NO MORE I SING. 

THOU askest why no more I sing; 
Rash questioner, I'll answer thee. 
It is because my weary wing 

Droops 'neath life's heavy mystery; 

Life's wondrous, wondrous mystery 
That sits and broods upon my heart 

Sullen and silent, nor to me 
Its guarded secret will impart. 

Nightly my earnest prayers ascend, 
Through our death-tainted atmosphere, 

To the Beginning and the End, 

The awful Power that placed us here; 



EARLY POEMS. 347 

That placed us here and gave us life, 

And wants life cannot satisfy, 
And minds that wage unending strife 

With all their vision can descry. 

My prayers ring out like evening chimes, 

But nothing follows, save it be 
A whispered word from Hope, sometimes, 

Which bids me wait more patiently. 

We search with eager, trembling hands 

Each crevice in the ruined past, 
And dig among the drifting sands 

In hopes to find the key at last 

That shall unlock Fate's secret door, 

And to our curious minds reveal 
What the great future hath in store 

Reserved for us of woe or weal. 

"Unhappy mortals! rest and wait;" 

A felt but unseen Presence saith; 
"The key that shall unlock the gate — 

Futurity's wide gate — is Death." 



348 EARLY POEMS. 



M 



THE VISION. 

INE eyes beheld, enraptured, 
A vision of the future! 
She stood unveiled before me, 
Her wondrous eyes deep searching 
My heart that thrilled and trembled 
'Neath their magnetic glances. 

She said, " Thou'rt mine — mine only. 
The cold Past may not claim thee, 
Nor yet the fickle Present. 
I am the white-robed angel, 
Crowned with the crown Perfection, 
For whom thou long hast languished. 

I heard and I believed her — 
My soul's sublime ideal! 
I knelt and kissed her garments, 
The while her soft caresses 
Fell dew-like on the flowerets 
Unfolding in my nature. 

"Be patient, child," she whispered, 
" Contented still to follow. 
Thou canst not run before me. 



EARLY POEMS. 349 

Nor keep pace with my fleetness, 
For swifter than thought's couriers 
Are all my varied movements. 

But, knowing thy devotion 
And fervent aspirations, 
I'll waft thee many a message 
Of comfort and of warning 
Across the space dividing 
The mortal and immortal." 

She stooped and kissed my forehead, 
Then with a benediction 
Withdrew; but in the distance 
I see her ever shining — 
The star of my existence — 
The goal to which I hasten. 



A WINTER PICTURE. 

JUBILANT sleigh-bells, 
Lavishly scattering 
'xVlong the wild breezes 
Musical spray. 
Proud coursers flying 
Over the snow-drifts, 
Glancing and sparkling 
In the moon's ray. 



350 EARLY POEMS. 

White mantled landscape, 
Banded with shadows 
Where the tree spectres 
Lingering stand, 
Brooklet, once flowing, 
Now without motion, 
Touched by the potent 
Ice-monarch's wand. 

Over all bending 

In mute protection 

Lo! Heaven's spangled 

Archway is seen; 

Through whose high portals, 

Stately, majestic, 

Walks in her glory 

Luna — the Queen! 



LONGING FOR SPRING. 

GENTLE Spring we wait thy coming, 
Hither fly on lightning wing; 
Oh to see the field flowers blooming 

And the fruit trees blossoming! 
Oh to hear the wild bees humming 
We do long sweet spring! 



EARLY POEMS. 

Oh to hear the free birds singing 

Nature's hymns in woodland bowers! 

Oh to see the cascade flinging 
To the sun its pearly showers! 

Oh to feel the zephers bringing 
Incense to the hours! 

Spring, behold! the trees are praying, 
Stretching forth their naked arms; 

Thus they cry, " Where art thou straying 
While we droop 'neath vague alarms ? 

Lovely Spring, no more delaying, 
Give us back our charms." 

Hasten, Spring, we are aweary 
Of the Winter's ice and snow; 

Of his days so dark and dreary, 
Thou hast brighter ones we know, 

O'er whose forms the sunbeams cheery 
Silvery mantles throw. 

Still for thee our hearts are sighing; 

Hither speed, fair Queen, and bring 
All thy train with banners flying, 

Led by minstrels caroling — 
Minstrels with each other vieing 

In thy praise, sweet Spring. 



352 EARLY POEMS. 



SEVEN QUESTIONS. 

OLD man, with hair like yon thin cloud 
Dissolving in the blue of heaven, 
Come sit you down and answer me; 
I want to ask you questions seven. 

First, are you glad that you were born ? 
" Dear youth, though I have suffered pain 
And sorrow oft, I thank my God 
For life, for life and all its gain." 

And wish you long on earth to stay ? 
" No; yet I bow me to His will. 
I'm weary, but with patience wait 
My earthly mission to fullfil." 

What think you of humanity? 
11 It is a grand and wondrous fruit 
Of life, that all the juices hoards 
Upspringing from its parent root. 

'Tis mellowing in the present time, 

'Twill ripen in the after years; 
Then will the marriage tie be formed 

Connecting earth with Heaven's high spheres." 



EARLY POEMS. 353 

Have you the faith your youth possessed ? 
" The same, but glorified. Small store 
It sets by man's stability, 

But, oh, it trusts the Father more! " 

What worldly gain esteem you most ? 
" Experience; 'tis worth the world." 
And what the loss you most lament ? 
" Innocence from her white throne hurled." 

One question more, and I have done. 

'Mong all the wonders you recall, 
Pray, which of them do you regard 

Most strange, most wonderful of all ? 

" My own existence. This it is 

Which baffles, overpowers my thought. 
I am, I feel, I think, I love; 

But how or wherefore know I nought. 

"I am, I feel, I think, I love; 
My aspirations soon will cast 
Aside the chains that bind my soul, 
And I shall meet the Truth at last." 



354 EARLY POEMS. 



COURAGE TAKE. 

COURAGE take, O pilgrim soldier! 
Bravely still thy soul defend. 
Though the hosts of sin beset thee, 
He who made will not forget thee, 
He will be thy friend. 

Wary be, O pilgrim soldier! 

Put Truth's matchless armor on, 
With the sword of Justice arm thee. 
Then, though foes conspire to harm thee, 

Thou needst flee from none. 

For thy breast-plate, pilgrim soldier, 

Wear thy conscience, pure and bright; 
Let no stain deface its glory, 
That in darkness gathering o'er thee 
It may give thee light. 

When thou hast, O pilgrim soldier, 
Nobly fought the battle through, 
Whitest angel hands shall crown thee, 
Whitest angel souls shall own thee 
For their champion true. 






EARLY POEMS. 355 



DEVELOPMENT. 



UP springs the tender plant 
From the cold sod, 
Sighing for liberty, 
Yearning for God; 

Stretching its leafy arms 

Higher and higher, 
Drawing the soul of Love 

Nigher and nigher. 

Taller it grows, and Grace 
Shapes it, while Beauty 

Decks it with blossoms rare, 
Garlands of Duty. 

Lo! now the tree, mature, 
Learns of its mission; 

Now are its ardent hopes 
Crowned with fruition. 

High towers its stately head, 

Far from the sod, 
Waving in Freedom's air, 

Bowing to God ! 



356 EARLY POEMS. 



SONG OF THE GRAND ARMY. 

We come! we come! 
Bearing the flag our sires bequeathed, the beautiful, the 
glorious! 
Look up! behold its gleaming stripes, its lustrous maze of 
stars. 
In the grand cause of Truth and Right it still must prove 
victorious 
O'er all our foes, whose causeless hate its lawful progress 
bars. 
We come! we come! Our hearts beat high with ardent 
aspirations; 
We cannot rest, we will not pause until our flag is seen 
And greeted, too, by every eye throughout our mighty na- 
tion, 
And traitors all are classed among the things that once 
have been. 

We come! we come! 
Make way for us; our swords are keen, and strong the 
hands that wield them, 
For they defend the holiest rights the world has ever 
known. 
Wrong and Oppression crouch in fear; say, false ones, can 
you shield them 
From Liberty's indignant glance and Virtue's wrathful 
frown ? 



EARLY POEMS. 357 

Think not because we long have held the olive branch 
before you, 
And opened wide our arms to woo your penitent return, 
That still we'll struggle to avert the storm impending o'er 
you. 
No! outraged Justice now is roused, and you her strength 
shall learn. 

We come! we come! 
Hear you the heavy tramp of feet ? it is our legions swelling 

Like some majestic river rolling through incessant rain. 
See you the countless flashing eyes whose glances stern are 
telling 
How resolute our will can be our purpose to sustain ? 
Know you how near the canker-worm has gnawed the 
chains asunder 
With which you load your fellow-men ? Shame that such 
things should be! 
The cruel links will break when peals our battle-cry of 
thunder, 
" For all that wear the human form a home and liberty!" 



358 EARLY POEMS. 



DREAM ON! 

DREAM on, fair maiden, earth has nought 
More sweet than are those dreams of thine, 
For Love bedews thine every thought 

With nectar from a fount divine. 
Dream on, for real life is all 

Too harsh and cold for such as thee; 
Why shouldst thou waken to recall 
Thy soul to its inharmony ? 

Dream on, dream on. 

Dream on, fair maiden, and endow 

Thy bright ideal with thy mind, 
That it may ever richer grow 

In grace and loveliness refined. 
Dream on and sing in tuneful strains 

Of what thy glowing fancy paints, 
That we may learn how God sustains, 

In bliss entranced, His favored saints. 
Dream on, dream on. 



EARLY POEMS. 359 



THE SHORE OF YOUTH. 

SWEET girlish laughter, charm once more 
My listening ear 
With music from that fairy shore 
To me so dear; 

The shore, the happy shore, called Youth 

Where I have been; 
Where innocence, and faith and truth 

Are only seen. 

There beauty's dearest pets are found, 

The bright-winged birds 
That scatter, set with pearls of sound, 

Their unknown words. 

The lovely flowers with dainty lips, 

And he as fair — 
The butterfly — who lightly sips 

Pure nectar there. 

O radiant shore! O fairy sphere 

Beyond the sea; 
The sea whose every drop's a tear; 

Ah! woe is me. 



360 EARLY POEMS. 

The cruel sea — Experience, 

When once 'tis crossed 

Faith, hope, love, truth, sweet innocence, 
All, all are lost. 



PARTING. 

WE must part at last, at last! 
We who have been friends so long; 
Well! since boyhood's years are past, 
We must suffer and be strong. 

Men we are, with manhood's cares, 

Labors, aspirations, joys; 
And our restless courage dares 

Things untried when we were boys. 

Eastward now your steps are bent 
To secure the wreath of Fame; 

You will work with fixed intent 
To achieve a deathless name; 

While I to the quiet West, 

Where the flaming sun goes down, 

Wander in unceasing quest 
Of contentment — not renown. 



EARLY POEMS. 361 

Friend so cherished, never more 

May we meet on earth again. 
God protect thee, I implore, 

Keep thy future free from stain. 

Though our earnest efforts fail 

To attain the longed-for prize, 
May our eager spirits scale 

Truth's proud heights that pierce the skies. 



MAN'S WILLING SLAVE. 

LO! the noble, patient brute, 
Trembling neath his driver's blows, 
Kicks and curses. Ah! who knows 
What he suffers, who is mute. 

He, the willing slave of man, 

Without hope of future gain, 

And in weariness and pain, 
Serves his master all he can. 

Unresisting, he endures 

All the drink-crazed demon's spite, 
Who inflicts, from morn till night, 

Cruel wounds time only cures. 



362 EARLY POEMS. 

Look on his neglected state, 

Staggering limbs and mournful eyes, 
Haggard mien and laboring sighs, 

All attest his hapless fate. 

Man, in God's own image made, 
Let his humbler creatures share 
Your protecting love and care; 

Their distress invokes your aid. 

Your reward, what shall it be ? 

Something that will please you well. 

Ask your conscience; it will tell 
What befits eternity. 



SIMPLICITY. 

HAZEL-eyed, and sweet of face, 
Winning, by her childlike grace, 
Oft a champion to defend, 
Now a lover, now a friend 

What you haughty ones reject, 
She still treats with kind respect, 
Smiles to cheer their burdened days, 
" God has need of them," she says. 



EARLY POEMS. 363 

'Neath her look of perfect trust 
Falsehood crouches in the dust, 
Guilt himself abashed goes by, 
Evil things her presence fly. 

Children thronging at her feet, 
Love to hear her lips repeat 
Wisdom's plain impressive words 
Which for constant use she hoards. 

Though our human lot she shares, 
Not a stain her spirit bears; 
Pure and true, and glad and free, 
Lo! the maid — Simplicity. 



HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS. 

(a fragment). 

FIRST VOICE. 

BLACK abysses, hellward tending, 
Lost beneath the stagnant water, 
Deeper far, through shades plutonian, 
Sinks my overburdened soul, 
Forced by sin, and shame, and horror 
Through the realms of wild distraction, 
To the dread domains of madness, 
Out of reason's mild control. 



364 EARLY POEMS. 

SECOND VOICE. 

Lofty mountains, heavenward climbing, 
Crowned with purity's white symbol, 
Lo! my fond, aspiring spirit 
Soars far higher than you dare; 
Borne on thought's majestic pinions, 
Through the regions of the real, 
To the verge of the ideal, 
Seeking' treasures new and rare. 



O SILENT LAND. 

O SILENT land! O land of rest, 
O'ershadowed by the cypress trees, 
In which no May-bird builds her nest, 
Nor plays the fickle-minded breeze. 

I'm coming, coming; soon my feet 
Will touch thy borders wide and bare; 

Farewell to earth and earth-ties sweet, 
I'm almost there! I'm almost there! 

O land, though Pleasure finds no place 
Well suited for her bower in thee. 

Neither can Pain the footsteps trace 
Of those who there for refuge flee. 



EARLY POEMS. 365 

O silent lana! O land of rest! 

I feel thy damp air on my brow. 
Life's sun is sinking in the west, 

Thy chilling shades embrace me now. 

I'm coming, coming; soon my feet 

Will touch thy borders wide and bare; 

Farewell to earth and earth-ties sweet, 
I'm almost there! I'm almost there! 



ONLY A SEWING GIRL. 

5HPIS but a simple story, friend; 

1 You may not think it worth your while 
One moment of your time to spend 

In listening to it. Ah! you smile, 
And say, " Go on." Well, let me see; 

A month ago this very day, 
My neighbor came in haste to me, 

And bade me go without delay, 
To such a house in such a street, 

In such a quarter of the town, 
Where lay one dying. Soon my feet 

Were at the door, and I was shown 
Up three long flights of moidering stairs 

Into a garret bare and cold, 
Where lay (her bed some broken chairs) 

A woman prematurely old. 



366 EARLY POEMS. 

Large brilliant eyes, and lovely hair 

That o'er her bony shoulders swept, 
Were all the charms that want and care 

Had left to her. I lightly stepped 
Toward her, and with kindly hand 

Smoothed back the tresses from her face. 
She smiled, and seemed to understand 

Some pitying friend was in the place. 

She strove to speak, and bending low 

My ear, I caught these whispered words: 
" My sister, in the long ago, 

I loved to listen to the birds, 
That in their cages sang to me 

Of sunny climes and leafy bowers, 
Where brooklets threaded merrily 

Their way 'mong labyrinths of flowers; 
Where all their swift-winged, beauteous race 

Were free to go where fancy moved, 
Were free to seek in any place 

The food, the mates that best they loved. 

Then they'd bemoan their own hard lot, 

Those captive birds, and peck their bars; 
And I would sympathize in thought 

With them, and wish myself afar 
From soulless piles of brick and stone, 

From mind-destroying servitude, 
From selfishness, that, sparing none, 

Is fed on human flesh and blood. 



EARLY POEMS. 367 

Dear lady, oft I've wondered why 

The sermonizers of the poor, 
With all their zeal, so little try 

Our earthly welfare to secure. 
Why they evince such anxious care 

Concerning our souls' future bliss 
In other worlds, the while we fare 

So meanly, wretchedly in this. 

Ah, lady, in my ignorance 

I've fancied 'twere a wiser plan 
To seize upon the present chance 

Of making happy while we can; 
Of lifting from the prostrate form 

The heavy load that weighs it down; 
Of sheltering from the pouring storm 

The houseless children of the town. 
How can our anxious spirits soar 

To seek the holy peace of heaven, 
Till from their station at the door 

Starvation's clamorous wolves are driven. 

Earth fades away. I'm going now 

I trust to meet a kindlier fate. 
The Christ, who loves poor mortals so, 

May stoop to ope for me the gate. 
Ah, yes! I see its gleaming pearl — 

Lady, remember what I've said." 
She ceased; the lonely sewing girl 

Lay motionless before me — dead. 



368 EARLY POEMS. 



THE BRIDGE. 

THERE'S a safe, strong bridge o'er the river of death, 
Built by the angels; come and see. 
It swerves no more in the wind's rude breath 
Than the trunk of yon giant forest tree. 

'Tis a magical bridge, for in passing o'er 
The old grow young, and the sorrowful gay; 

And the sick are healed ere they reach the shore 
Ablaze with the light of eternal day. 

No more need the children of mortals fear 
To cross the gloomy and turbulent tide, 

For the structure is strengthened, year by year, 
By bands of workmen from either side. 

In the midst upriseth a column tall, 

Supporting a graceful and snow-white dove, 

From whose beak dependeth an open scroll 
Inscribed with the motto — Immortal Love! 



EARLY POEMS. 369 



THE DEPARTED. 

STILL, one by one, they leave us — they, whose names 
Have been like beacon lights unto our youth, — 
Have safely guided, by their lambent flames, 
Our feet to knowledge, wisdom, love and truth. 

Upon their emanations have our minds 

Long fed and thriven. Wherefore, wherefore then, 

We ask, must these fruit-bearers, by the wind 
Uprooted be to die like common men ? 

To die; to pass away; to form no more 

A visible part of earth's inhabitants; 
Leaving but foot-prints on life's trampled shore 

To guide affection to their favorite haunts. 

Oh, mystery of mysteries! we cry, 

Amazed. Are these in truth all that remains 

Of those bright beings, who aspired so high 

That Genius crowned them in his own domains ? 

No, no. They live, they love, they labor still; 

Our spiritual vision well perceives 
How, governed by a wise, long-chastened will, 

They shape for use the fabric Destiny weaves. 



370 EARLY POEMS. 

God lays a charge upon them to convey 
His precious seeds of truth unto our care. 

We are their wards; they guard us all the way 

From earth's cloud-realms to regions bright and fair. 



THE ENFRANCHISED SPIRIT. 



THEY buried my corse 'neath the graveyard sod, 
And they fancied, poor souls, that I slumbered there; 
That their floors would no more by my feet be trod, 

That their sorrows and joys I no more would share. 
Ah! they little dreamed, while they wended home 

So silent and sad from the funeral rites, 
That my spirit, then free through the heaven's to roam, 
Went with them and sang of its new delights. 

On the threshold I stood and embraced them all, 

As they entered the mansion, one by one, 
And I heard them whisper, " How gloomy the hall! 

How lonely the chambers now she is gone!" 
For they saw me not, though I looked on them 

With a clearer vision than ever before, 
Nor heard, though I called them all by name, 

And murmured sweet love-words, o'er and o'er. 



EARLY POEMS. 37] 

I kissed their cheeks, and I laid my hand 

In tender caressment upon each brow; 
But they thought it was only the wind that fanned 

Their faces, and caused them to shiver so. 
O friends, loved friends, how long must I wait 

For your minds to receive me with trust and faith ? 
Fain I'd show you eternity's open gate, 

And the bridge life has built o'er the river of death. 

Fain I'd teach you how bright is the heavenly land 

To those who have walked with their conscience here; 
To those who have striven to understand 

And obey the laws of their own true sphere. 
Death is only a transposition of life, 

You'll rejoice in this truth ere long, my friends; 
'Tis a peace that closes the reign of strife, 

A sunshine that gleams where the shadow ends. 



TO MINNEHAHA. 

O FICKLE star, why change you so ? 
Why shine with such uncertain light ? 
Why mock the eyes that seek your glow 
Amid the flashing orbs of night ? 

Be fixed and faithful in your sphere, 
For wandering stars their glory lose; 

Strive to excel in goodness, dear, 

Nor love's nor friendship's trust abuse. 



37' 



EARLY POEMS. 



Then shall your fame be wafted far 
To realms above your mortal ken, 

And you shall gleam, beloved star, 
Undimmed in virtue's diadem. 



PRAYER FOR SLEEP. 

INNOCENT sleep, rest-giving sleep, 
Over my wandering senses creep. 
Shut out the world from my weary eyes, 
Calm the rude billows that break in sighs 
Over the deep sea of my soul, 
Hold them awhile 'neath thy firm control. 

Innocent sleep, merciful sleep, 

Let me not tear-sodden vigils keep. 
Slow was the closing of wakeful day, 
Now, 'mid the shadows of eve, I pray, 
Pray for forgiveness of past misdeeds, 
Pray for the peace which my sad heart needs. 

Innocent sleep, pitying sleep, 
Quickly my brain in thy rich balm steep. 
Angel, resist not my fond appeal, 
Let me thy shadowy presence feel. 
Now, 'neath the spell of thy spirit kiss, 
Float I away to the realms of bliss. 



EARLY POEMS. 373 



THE RECALL. 

HOPE, thou light of my youth, come back. 
Why hast thou flown from my heart away? 
Fain would I follow thy shining track, 
But, ah! doubt-terrors my feet delay. 

The morn is joyless, and sad the eve, 
And dreary existence unblest by thee. 

Beneath the willows I lie and grieve, 
Oh! light of my soul come back to me. 

Canst thou forever the heart forsake 

Thou'st tended so kindly in days of old ? 

Oh canst thou leave it alone to break 
With pain in the shadows dark and cold ? 

Ah no! the rush of thy coming wings 

I hear, and thy smiling face I see. 
Dear Hope, the crown of all lovely things, 

Forever, forever abide with me. 



374 EARLY POEMS. 



THE COMING OF DAY. 

WHAT is that light? It is the dawn. 
Swift is the march of glorious Day. 
The breezes on yon eastern hills 

Now with her streaming tresses play. 

The waiting flowers prepare to bathe 
Her sunny feet in fragrant dew. 

To honor her the sky puts on 
Her trailing robe of softest blue. 

The very trees sing anthems. Hark! 

How swell those changeful notes of joy! 
Nay, for among their foliage green 

Sit feathered minstrels shy and coy. 

They are the choir of Nature; they 

Attend the Day in her career, 
Nor tire of their allotted task 

Through the long summer of the year. 

The Day puts on her regal crown, 
Her dazzling jewel, called the sun, 

And, leaning on Perfection's arm, 
Reviews the mighty works begun 



EARLY POEMS. 375 

And finished by that autocrat 

Of constant changes, known as Time; 

So keeps the Day a strict survey 
Of her domains in every clime. 



THE SUMMONS. 

LISTEN to the mighty call 
Uttered by an outraged nation; 
Friends of Virtue, friends of Peace, 
Up, nor let your efforts cease 
Till Intemperance shall fall 

Crushed and helpless from his station. 

By the cruel, shameless crimes; 
By the loathsome, foul diseases 
He has nurtured; by the care, 
Terror, anguish and despair 
Of his victims, in these times, 

From which nought but death releases; 

By the hosts of baby forms, 
So defenceless, all around us, 
Who rely upon our skill 
To direct them, on our will 
To protect them from life's storms 
And the evils that surround us; 



376 EARLY POEMS. 

We most solemnly do swear, 
In the hearing of immortals, 

That Intemperance shall be driven 
From our land with aid of Heaven 
That unto man's earnest prayer 
Ever opes its blessed portals. 

East, and West, and North, and South, 
Help to swell the thrilling chorus! 
Woman's heart, by anguish wrung, 
Lends persuasion to her tongue; 
May God's teachings through her mouth 
Soon a purer world restore us. 



CHANGE. 

CHANGE! Ah, yes; all things change — all life is change. 
Then marvel not if I regard it strange 
That thou shouldst, with such passianate earnestness, 
Declare 'twill henceforth be thy heaven to bless 
My being with a worship that shall last 
Until eternity itself is passed; 
Until the star-gems of the sky serene 
Are classed among the things that once have been. 
Too oft I've seen how closest ties of love 
Are loosed by time, and though at first 'twould move 
The heart to sadness but to say, good-bye, 
'Tis breathed at last without the faintest sigh. 
Change! Ah, yes; all things change — all life is change! 



EARLY POEMS. 377 



ST. VALENTINE. 

Beware! beware! 
The mischievous St. Valentine 
Is coming; you may read the sign 
Of his approach in many a face 
Aglow with mirth, and you may trace 
His herald's footsteps everywhere; 
Now of yourselves have special care, — 

Beware! beware. 

Take care! take care! 
He is a thief, this Valentine; 
A thief of hearts, though so benign 
And innocent his face appears 
You'd never dream of harboring fears 
Because of him. Ah! well you know 
My warning's virtue time will show, — 

Beware! Beware! 



37^ EARLY POEMS. 



THE EXILE TO HER NATIVE LAND. 

LAND of my nativity, 
Hear thy exiled child's repining, 
Destined never more to see 
Sunlight on thy waters shining 
As once it shone in earlier years 
E'er came life's struggles, doubts and fears. 

Fate willed that we must part; and oh! 

Mother, thy child remembers well, 
Though 'tis a long, long time ago, 
The anguish of that last farewell, 
When, watching thy receding coast, 
The last faint point of land was lost. 

Home beloved, mid blinding tears 
Left I thy green shores forever, 
Knowing well the coming years 
Would to thee restore me never, — 
That I with joy should wander o'er 
Thy fragrant fields no more, no more. 



EARLY POEMS. 379 



SWEET HOME. 

SWEET home! sweet home! thou dearest place 
That mortals know on earth, 
When smiles each dear familiar face 
About thy hallowed hearth. 
Ah! little reck we till we roam 
Afar, how prized thou art, sweet home. 

Sweet home! sweet home! what happy rest, 

What sympathy we meet 
When care-worn, or with grief oppressed, 
We seek thy calm retreat. 

For hither love and friendship come 
To cheer and comfort us, sweet home! 

Sweet home! upon thy walls are hung 

Pictures that none can see 
Save those whose memories long have clung 
Devotedly to thee, 

Who read, recorded in thy tome, 
Their family histories, sweet home! 



380 EARLY POEMS. 



THE RETURNED WANDERER. 

WELCOME her home again, poor, weary child! 
For years an outcast, by the world reviled. 
Long has she wandered in her loneliness, 
Cheered by no loving word, no fond caress. 
How great has been her need we cannot know, 
For in her heart she shut her voiceless woe, 
And placed a guide called Silence at the door, 
So that no one might enter to explore 
Its secret cells and passages. Ah! well; 
The story of her life we may not tell. 

He only comprehends her who from far 

Has watched her constantly — has seen the war 

Of passions in her nature — who, while low 

She kneels at last, with clasped hands on her brow, 

And calls upon His name in pleading tones, 

Draws near and lifts her from the cruel stones, 

And lays her aching head upon His breast, 

And soothes and bears her gently home to rest, 

Where angels welcome her — the blessed child — 

To peace, to love, to virtue reconciled. 



EARLY POEMS. 381 



THE BEREAVED MOTHER. 

"/^"\ LET me weep! 'tis my comfort. 
\^J Friends, in these tears God is drowning 
All my rebellious feelings. 

" I have, in madness of passion, 
Bitterly, fiercely reproached Him 
With my wrecked heart's desolation. 

11 Look! in the casket beside me 
Lies the fair bud, all unfolded, 
Given so late to my keeping. 

"In the cold earth they will lay it, 
Shut from its vision forever 
All the bright things it rejoiced in. 

" What though you tell me its spirit, 
Cradled in Purity's bosom, 
Waits for my slow-footed coming. 

" Tis but a baby, and therefore 
Clamorous its wants are and endless, 
Who like a mother can stay them ? 



382 EARLY POEMS. 

"Oh! the impassible distance 

Stretching 'twixt me and my darling. 
" Love in the future shall bridge it. 

"Only trust God, and have patience; 
Christ will the cross of affliction 
Lift from thy overborne shoulders." 

"Christ! O my brother, my Savior! 
Tender, compassionate Spirit, 
Let me draw near to thy presence. 

" Meekly resigned to all changes, 
Humble, and trustful, and useful 
May I become in the future." 



THE MOUNT OF TRUTH. 

OH the beautiful dreams of my youth, 
How they faded and faded away, 
As I drew near the rocky mount of Truth 
At the close of a Summer's day. 

And the mantle that Fancy wove 

In rainbow colors so bright 
Was torn to shreds by the winds that rushed 

From their lodge on that mountain's height. 



EARLY POEMS. 383 

I sang as my feet drew nigh 

The temple that Truth had reared, 
And these were the words that my lips outpoured 

To the spirit so stern and weird. 

" O Truth, art thou worth the cost ? 
Art thou worthy the sacrifice 
Of blossoming faiths, and budding hopes, 
And the lovelight of trustful eyes ? 

" What recompense canst bestow 
On thy votary's troubled heart ? 
Wilt thou make its clamorous yearnings cease, 
And its wild unrest depart ? 

" The world is not what it seemed 
Before thou didst touch mine eyes, 
And each step I take in thy wide domains 
Awakens some sad surprise. 

"Say! is it not better to dwell 

With Falsehood in sweet content, 
Then to walk with thee and behold, aghast, 
The veil of her mysteries rent ? 

" Her silken-robed lies revealed 

To the gaze of the jeering world ? 

Her hoarded treasures and costly toys 

To the beast, Oblivion, hurled ? " 



384 EARLY POEMS. 

"O fool!" cried a thrilling voice, 
" Could thy mind be satisfied 
With the baubles of thy infant days 
Nor struggle for aught beside ? 

" Come with me; my ways are rough, 
And my hand is hard, I know, 
But I'll strengthen thy frame, and bind the wreath 
Of Wisdom about thy brow. 

" I'll lead thee where healthy springs 
Of pleasure bedew the rock, 
Where shade and sunshine together play 
Neath branches that interlock. 

" Thou shalt see with my perfect eyes, 
And hear through my well-skilled ears, 
And the knowledge thou'lt gain, of experience born, 
Will banish thy gloomy fears. 

" As little as knows the germ 

Of the oak tree that upward tends, 
Know'st thou of thy future growth, my child; 
Beginnings foresee not ends." 



EARLY POEMS. 385 



THE WARNING CRY. 

HARK! from the watchers on the towers 
Descends this warning cry: 
" Prepare ye, for the tempest lowers, 
The storm is drawing nigh. 
Make strong your dwelling that ye may 
Not yield yourselves an easy prey. 

" Build ye on Truth's eternal rock, 

That you may never fail 
To meet, unmoved, the rudest shock 

Of Bigotry's fierce gale. 
Stand firm; the shrieking winds shall cease 

Ere long and leave your homes in peace. 

" Have faith in God, whose banner is 
By stout Progression borne; 
Full soon its flaming folds shall kiss 

The bright millenial morn. 
Make strong your dwellings till that time 
The dawning of the age sublime." 



386 EARLY POEMS. 



DREAM ON, FAIR NATURE. 

DREAM on, fair Nature, day dreams and night dreams; 
In the still moments generate thought-buds 
That, soon unfolding into bright blossoms, 

Shall give rich promise of perfect fruitage 
When the great Future bids to the harvest 

Life's many laborers, strong-limbed and sturdy. 

Dream on, fair Nature, till the loud summons 

Of wakeful Duty calls thee to action. 
Then in the footsteps of high Progression 

Lead the procession of eager mortals. 
Lo! they are thronging countless in numbers; 

Lead them to Virtue, guide them to Wisdom. 



EARLV POKMS. 387 



TO THE WOULD-BE DOORKEEPERS OF 
HEAVEN. 

OYE vain, presumptuous mortals, 
Who, self-seeking, 
Claim to hold the keys of Heaven 
In your keeping; 

Who would fain prevent our gazing 

At its splendor; 
Ordering that we first before you, 

Homage render; 

See you not how God is working 

In the mind 
Of humanity ? Examine, 

And you'll find 

Men are kinder to each other 

Everywhere; 
More desirous that life's blessings 

All should share. 

As the green fruits grow and ripen, 

Thus they ponder; 
If all souls in God are equal 

Over yonder. 



388 EARLY POEMS. 

Then they never were unequal, 
Save in seeming, 

Ere the lamp of understanding 
Bright was gleaming. 

When the clouds disperse that mortal 

Vision bar, 
We shall see how good and useful 

All things are. 

We shall learn how in their orbits 

All things tend 
Toward His refined perfection, 

In the end. 



EXPECTANCY. 

O DAWNING day of happiness! 
Make haste, make haste — how slow thou art- 
And banish from my lonely heart 
Its darkness and distress. 

O sun of beauty, love and light, 

Arise! arise! my soul awaits 

Thy coming, through morn's pearly gates, 
With ardor and delight. 



EARLY POEMS. 389 



O day make haste! O sun arise! 

Walk ye together, faithfully, 
And scatter, from the brightening skies, 

Your smiles of joy on me. 

I've waited long, and still I wait 
Your coming with impatient sighs. 

Why linger? Why delay so late ? 
O day make haste! O sun arise! 



BEAR UP. 

BEAR up, bear up, O sinking heart, 
Though threatening waves surround thee now, 
A sunbeam stoops to kiss thy brow 
And bid thy fears depart. 

Oh yield not weakly to despair! 

Put forth thy strength, the land is near 
Where loving friends and kindred dear 

For thee a feast prepare. 

O struggling heart, despond no more! 

The very waves thou fearest so 
Are bearing thee with steady flow 

Toward the sheltering shore; 



390 EARLY POEMS. 

Toward the verdant, flower crowned-height 
Where thou shalt find thy longed-for rest, 
Where love and friendship, truest, best, 

Shall tend thee with delight. 



FROM BEHIND THE VEIL. 

FROM behind the veil they're calling, 
Spirit voices, sweet and clear, 
Dew-like are their love-words falling 

On the soul's attentive ear. 
Kind advice, and friendly warning, 

Blessings pure as untrod snow, 
Angels shower on mortals yearning 
Life's mysterious ways to know. 

Yet the Sceptic, in his blindness, 

Drives them from his heart away, 
Spurns their proffered aid and kindness, 

Draws night's curtain o'er his day 
Friends he loved, when roughly shapen 

In the flesh they met his eyes, 
Mourn in spirit, lone, forsaken, 

While their presence he denies. 

Children of this age of wonder, 
Would you in God's likeness grow, 

Rend the olden bands asunder 
That restrain your reason now. 



EARLY POEMS. 391 

Let your free minds draw magnetic 

Draughts from nature's wisdom spring, 

That you may in strains prophetic 
Of the blessed future sing. 



THE UNSEEN POWER. 

THERE'S a power in the land 
That no man can understand, 
Though he feels its mighty influence in his soul; 
It invigorates the weak, 
Causes timid lips to speak 
And bear witness to God's infinite control. 
Wake! wake! wake! the call of Duty 
Rings like a trumpet through the air; 
Who will follow where he leads ? 
Who will help to sow the seeds — 
The precious seeds of Temperance everywhere ? 

There s a glory of the sun 

When the dawn her course has run, 
And a glory of the stars at midnight time; 

But far brighter is the glow 

Which the sainted spirits know 
Who have risen through a martyrdom sublime. 
Wake! wake! wake! the call of Duty 



392 EARLY POEMS. 

Rings like a trumpet through the air; 
Who will follow where he leads ? 
Who will help to sow the seeds — 
The precious seeds of Temperance everywhere ? 



THE CHILDREN'S HYMN. 



HEAR US O FATHER. 

OTHOU great eternal Spirit, 
Floating in the Summer air, 
Breathing in the fragrant petals 

Of the flowers so fresh and fair, — 
Hear us, while, in adoration 

Of thy goodness and thy love, 
We strive to raise our childish voices 
To thy purer courts above. 

Hear us, O our Father, hear us! 

To thy little ones attend; 
Let Thy angels safely guide us 

To our earthly journey's end. 

We have long in Thee confided, 
And we fondly trust Thee now, 

For Thy loving arms are round us, 
And Thy throne is on each brow. 



EARLY POEMS. 393 

And Thy smile beams on the faces 
Of our friends and playmates dear, 

While blended with their well-known voices 
Thy melodious tones we hear. 

Hear us, O our Father, etc. 

Bless our ardent aspirations, 

Grant Thy children's fervent prayer, 
Let us 'neath Truth's snowy banner 

Falsehood's haughty minions dare. 
Make us Virtue's true apostles, 

Messengers of Love divine, 
And, O our Father, let our wishes 

Ever harmonize with Thine. 

Hear us, O our Father, etc. 



DEAR ANGEL OF PURITY. 

DEAR angel of Purity, dwell in my heart, 
And brush all the cobwebs of passion away; 
Thy beautiful presence can gently impart 

An influence more sweet than the breath of the May. 
Oh spread not thy pinions to leave me in pain, 

Thou daughter of God, thou beloved of His soul, 
Whose virtuous nature could gather no stain 
Though floods of corruption should over thee roll. 



394 EARLY POEMS. 

Dear Angel of Purity, shine from afar 

Through the gloom that envelops this world's lower 
spheres; 
Be thou to mankind as a true guiding star, 

To lead them still higher where sunlight appears. 
Where Holiness dwelleth, where Peace sits enshrined, 

Where sin fades away in Perfection's clear light; 
O daughter of God! thou art patient and kind, 

Go, lead all poor wanderers out of the night. 

Go into the highways and byways of earth, 

Where lost ones are groping 'mong pitfalls their way; 
Tell how fair is the region where thou hadst thy birth, 

Where no evil can bide, where no good can decay. 
Be sure though some heed not thy eloquent voice 

'Twill echo around them by day and by night, 
And, daughter of God, thou shalt sometime rejoice 

To welcome them all in thy realm of delight. 



LIFE'S DISCORDS. 



DISCORDS arise sometimes whose mission is 
To shake with tempest stre»gth the passive soul, 
And make the ensuing melody appear 
More exquisite by contrast. 



EARLY POEMS. 395 



I LOVE YOU. 

I LOVE you! In the whole wide range 
Of human speech can there be found 
Another sentence that conveys 

To listening ears so sweet a sound ? 

I love you ? Simple, strong and true, 
The words united form a chain 

That, welded round two kindred souls. 
No force may rend apart again. 



LILY OF THE VALLEY. 

GRACEFUL, dainty little beauty, 
Folded in thy cloak of green, 
Breathing out thy soul in fragrance 

Presence felt but never seen," 
Type thou art of spotless virtue 

Hidden in the human mind, 

Pouring forth its heavenly odors 

Grateful to the sense refined. 



,96 EARLY POEMS. 



ACROSTIC. 

TWINKLING in the azure space, 
Hangs an object fraught with grace. 
Eve for us unveils its face. 

Ever full of light and motion, 

Voyager on a boundless ocean, 

Enters it no port of rest; 

Neither hasting nor delaying 

In its course, Heaven's will obeying, 

Night, her precious gems displaying 

Guards this jewel on her breast. 

Shine on; let thy lambent lustre 
Thrill our pulses from afar 
As our thoughts at twilight clustre 
Round thy path, fair Evening Star. 



MUSIC. 

MUSIC, although invisible, has power 
Of voice to urge men to heroic deeds. 
Ay, all forgetful of their life's rich dower, 
They rush to death with ardor when she leads. 



EARLY POEMS. 397 



PROVIDENCE. 

IN the household of our Father, 
Oh, what wonders are transpiring 
Where around His work looms gather 

Busy hands and feet untiring! 
Fleecy robes of starlight tender 

For the great world's future wearing; 
Bridal veil of sunbeams splendor 
For chaste Pysche's use preparing. 

Lone one, through earth deserts ranging, 

Bearing still the cross of duty, 
Lo! within your arms 'tis changing — 

Melting into wraiths of beauty — 
Into love's reward of merit 

That shall crown your long endeavor 
When from your enfranchised spirit 

Slip the irksome chains forever. 



398 EARLY POEMS. 



VITTORIA! 

Sweet! sweet! 
Bird of the woodland, swinging so airily 

High on the tree's topmost bough, 
Piping, warbling, trilling so merrily, 
Hist! I will sing for you now. 
Sweet! sweet! 

Joy! joy! 
Far through the ether, higher and higher, 

Even to the rim of the sun, 
Soars my glad spirit on wings of desire, 
Chanting of victory won. 
Joy! joy! 

Sweet! sweet! 
Birdie for thee and for me life unending; 

Death and defeat are no more; 
Now are our paeons of thankfulness blending 
With those on eternity's shore. 
Sweet! sweet! 



